The Juxtaposition of Resisting and Relenting
by Tricky'Nix
Summary: "There was a pause before the canvas of his face was wiped blank and replaced with a slow easy smirk of grace and charm, classic diversion from his manipulative words."   Sirius Black came back tainted. Rated M. Dark.
1. Make me wanna die

No one ever notices the flaws in a miracle. When people come back, when they don't die, when they are snatched from the brink of tragedy by fate or mercy or luck, they never stop to acknowledge what's wrong.

He came back _wrong._

The few insights that sporadic legilimency has gleaned have been frustratingly empty. Meaningless thoughts and observations skitter across what little conscious mind I can reach. Reading his mind is like reading a blurred work of Shakespeare annotated with comments like "He's insane" or "This is where they hang the fool". The words don't give the actions meaning, but create a smokescreen designed to shadow the true intent and turn it into nonsense. Facts, not knowledge.

It's frustratingly akin to trying to reach an object that has fallen behind a piece of furniture. No matter how hard you try to reach it, all you manage to do is scrape the surface with your fingertips. A constant veil behind his eyes, even when he is asleep and dreaming, trying to wring any decent piece of information from his wretched mind is blood from a stone.

Occasionally, you get lucky. But only if he's feeling pedantic or sadistic or malicious or lascivious, or even playful, all common emotions in his grey eyes since he was dragged from the depths of hell, kicking and screaming to go back.

"You're supposed to be his godfather for goodness' sake!" snapped Mrs Weasley to him one day. And then I caught it.

A brief spark of rage that flitted across his aristocratic features, one miniscule expression that contorted his face into scorn as he let his derision break free of his carefully constructed cloak of invisibility and charm. He caught my eye as he felt my hurried intrusion, hesitant of a counter attack or being rudely kicked out with a sharp flick across the inside of my skull. Instead of throwing me out or constructing a wall or probing back or even breaking eye contact, he allowed me to see a very small flicker of his thoughts.

A second was all it took for the fantasy, of Molly Weasley's blood spraying across the kitchen whilst Padfoot ripped her throat out, to be ingrained in my memories forever. Horror and triumph fought for equal ground in my head as I was ripped unceremoniously from that particular fantasy and plunged directly into another of silk sheets and dark corners, pleasure and pain mingled in a hoarse cry of ecstasy rattling through an empty house. This time it was me who forcefully yanked me out of his perverse longings and back into a world where everything was normal and safe. Where the table-top was not sticky from blood and the echoing cry of ecstasy was not reverberating through the wretched house that took an innocent man and broke him.

I winced as the volume in the kitchen sunk to silence as he held my gaze with a look of gleeful triumph on his face and utter evil in his eyes. There was a pause before the canvas of his face was wiped blank and replaced with a slow easy smirk of grace and charm, classic diversion from his manipulative words.

"So sorry Molly, I'll try and curb the schoolboy humour next time hmmm?" The honeyed words were accompanied with the right amount of contriteness and mischievousness. What woman wouldn't giggle slightly and turn away with a quick "oh don't you worry about it dear"? I'll tell you who: The woman who had to excuse herself to throw up from the remnants of a fantasy that wasn't hers. The woman who knew he had followed her upstairs and was now suppressing a shiver at having to leave the bathroom again.

Biting the proverbial bullet had never felt so literally life-threatening. Now I see a certain black humour in the way we use our language today, we don't make words seem pale with colloquialism and hyperbole, but we make our world seem a little darker with the way we laugh at expression that once meant danger and death. There's always a subtext.

But of course, this train of thought is simply procrastination. The minute this brief muse is over, the proverbial bullet hits its target, accompanied by the click of the bathroom door opening.

Upon my exit, I see him leaning against the wall lazily, still smirking with the arrogant ease that seems to have been gifted to all purebloods (except maybe the Weasleys) on conception.

I make to walk right past him, careful not to make eye contact but he has different ideas, and I find a solid wall of man blocking the hallway.

Still I say nothing.

"Care to share the reason why you decided to snoop around my head Princess?" the question is accompanied by a smug arch of his eyebrow, the playful gesture concealing the discreet undertone of warning in his voice.

His fingers grasp my chin and force my eyes to his. I shut my mind stubbornly, just in case, erecting walls around every millimetre of my subconscious, just on the off chance of an attack.

His fingers squeeze painfully and I realise he wants an answer.

"I.." My throat feels too dry to speak, and I have no idea what the right answer to his question is. "I wasn't _snooping_._"_

A snort of disbelief is my answer, and I reach up to rip his hand from my face crossly, swallowing the brick in my throat hurriedly.

"I _wasn't_" I snapped taking a step backwards, finally annoyed beyond fear. "I didn't need to; your thoughts weren't exactly shrouded in subtlety." The hallway feels as if the walls are closing in.

He laughed humourlessly and took another step forward, seemingly oblivious to the hard plaster that was now digging into my back.

"That still didn't give you the right to look, Princess". All traces of his former lethargic playfulness were gone, suspicious anger clouding his face. Not the heat of righteous rage, or irritation, but the cold hard fury of an uncontrollable wrath.

"Tell it to a judge." I retort in a low voice, not quite as defiant as I wanted, still focusing on keeping the mental shields up. "How about we agree that I won't look again, and you won't accost me in a hallway?" I smile weakly, the prolepsis of his earlier fantasy telling me nothing good will come of this. "It's not like I particularly wanted to see any of that anyway."

He chuckles, somehow making it into a growl. "I'm more interested in why you keep feeling the need to check on my thoughts actually". His arm is beside my head, forcing me to keep eye contact with him.

Suddenly, a blinding pain hits right between my eyes, as if someone has thrown a spear straight into my frontal lobe. Then I realise that's what he is doing, stabbing at my reflexive shields viciously, trying to find a gap, making no attempts to be subtle or merciful.

After all – who would believe that the rescued is slowly tearing the rescuer apart from the inside out?

And when did he learn legilimency? An art for the subtle and the disciplined, a crafting of the subconscious, the tool of a spy, not a soldier.

It was getting harder to keep them closed, the temptation being to give in and stop the random bursts of pain along the front of my mind. I close my eyes, and my mind solidifies itself, the pain getting less as all my energy goes to fortifying the battlements of my thoughts.

Just as I begin to relax, I yelp as I feel a sudden pinch on my hip and that's all he needs. He's in through the tiny gap that appeared in a flash, searching through my memories frantically, I can see random pieces of my life flash before my eyes frame by frame, blind to the real world as he searches for whatever it is he wants.

My eyes are watering and I've got his bicep in a death grip, trying to throw him out, grappling with his own thoughts as I try to expel what he can see from the front of my brain. I can see doors slamming shut as I lock away private or indecent or potentially flammable thoughts and experience's behind stout walls of titanium thoughts, shadowing poignant emotions behind the inconsequential nonsense of a teenage girl. Then he freezes and I know he found what he wants, I can hear my own voice echoing through my head as his mental images from earlier flash behind my eyes.

"_He's come back wrong. He's come back wrong. He's come back wrong. He's comes back wrong. He-"_

Summoning strength from I don't know where, I take a breath and shove him out of my mind, forcefully throwing him out. As he was torn from my mind, I forgot to put the shields back up and I was helplessly pulled into his mind instead.

There wasn't any pictures.

My first thought, was the complete lack of clarity surrounding every memory he has. Some smothered in a grey haze, like he cannot remember what they were, some coated in the blood red mist that encompasses every fantasy he has ever had, presenting them as memories, instead of the longing want normally attached to a daydream.

Snapshots of images are flicking through the front of his awareness, sounds and smells and touch being magnified like in an animal's mind. And through all the chaos and mind numbing, exhausting violence that seem to occupy every waking thought, his emotions cover everything in a roaring fury.

Anger, want and salacious longing flow through each picture as they appear. Each one inconsequential to me, a frame of the orchard at the Burrow, a glimpse of me and Luna at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place, trivial moments in time that seem to harbour a distinctive significance to the ex-convict currently dragging me through his mind.

And it is him leading. I'm not doing any of the searching that's prompting the small insights I'm gleaning from his life. Something's holding me in an icy death grip pulling me into the delicious confusion that is his life now. That something is his metaphorical grasp on the edge of my being. He's searching through his own head, looking for something for me to see, something he's hidden so far down and so far back, buried from himself that he struggles to find what it is he wants to show me.

And then we stop in front of a door right at the very edge of his sanity, I'm given time to reflect that now would be the time to forcibly leave before I'm unceremoniously shoved through, and land in the middle of his worst nightmare.

Or maybe his favourite dream.

It's certainly not a memory, the setting gives it away. We're in a room in some dingy looking hotel, obviously not a real place; it's too rough around the edges. Normally when someone can't remember a certain detail of a memory, inside their own head or in a pensieve, the detail they can't recall is a hazy grey. Hanging on by the tips of their fingers, but not quite solid enough to be part of the original memory, similar to altered memories. The edges here though, like the view from the window and what's in the room other than the bed, are black, like they have never existed and never will. Like they haven't been invented by whoever created this scenario rather then they just cannot be remembered by whoever partook in the event.

Wait, _bed._

Why was I seeing this? What was I about to see that was so sinister or chilling that even the great Sirius Black was afraid of his own desires?

Ignorance is bliss.

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><p>Thank you for reading Dahlings…<p>

Nixon. x


	2. Supermassive Black hole

Time doesn't exist inside someone's mental world. I have no idea how long it's taken to wade in and out of his abrupt demonstration of his innermost being. Anywhere from a minute to a month is possible, but I don't think I'm hungry enough yet for it to be more than a couple of minutes. And yes; once again, I am procrastinating.

He's looking at me in silence, still as close, still with my fingers curved around his bicep, still with the dangerous emotional volatility flickering in the depths of his eyes.

He doesn't frighten me anymore, like I _know _him better, like I can hurt or heal him with the knowledge he's just handed to me. He can't hurt me now he _needs_ me. Power does feel good, even to the ones who know it corrupts.

An ethical person would know that power over someone like this, is wrong. A moral person just _wouldn't_ use this power against someone.

But ethics are the only point needed on your resume for deciding whether you belong in the light or the dark, no one ever says anything about morals. And of course, the light side is always to desperate for recruits to bother checking the difference.

Right, Procrastination.

"Why did you show me that?" I asked finally, my tone neutral, my gaze flat. My fingers uncurl from his bicep and fall to my side but his position with one arm on the wall doesn't move.

He tilts his head and looks at me, expecting me to work it out myself and spare him his pure-blood pride at having to ask someone so much younger than him for help. But of course, just because I empathise with him, doesn't mean I have to pity him as well does it? Morals and ethics….

"You want my help." I inform him shortly, bored of the silent war. He snorts and straightens up, removing his arm from the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking every inch the bored aristocrat he once was.

"You think you can help me?" he asks derisively, flicking his gaze up and down me. "Little miss find-it-in-a-book?"

Despite my annoyance at his disparaging quip, I know that he's right. How can I possibly find a way to help him curb a want so dark and terrible in the cool, soft pages of a book?

The truth is, I can't.

The way his dream-self used the body of his young lover, so angrily, so controlling and so roughly inconsiderate seemed barbaric to me.

I had seem a lot of things during the war, done a lot of things that kept me up at night. But nothing had ever been so poignant as the way Sirius Black used another human being for his own pleasure, and his own pleasure alone.

And the way his victim had _enjoyed_ it….

I shivered. For some reason, now his perverse thrills intrigued me as well as troubled me. Maybe giving him answers would help me find some as well.

I glanced up to see him still watching me closely.

"I can help you find what it is you want." I clarify, revelling secretly in the look of surprise in his face as I fake study my manicure.

"Not really interested in a sponsor and a minder Princess" he scowled, losing interest and turning around, now looking more sulky then threatening. Or maybe my fear of him was just gone.

"Well I actually meant I could find you a girl every so often that would be willing to be…used." I corrected, not lifting my gaze from my nails. The verb felt wrong in my mouth, like there wasn't a word that did justice to what he wanted to do.

He's back in front of me in a second, hand either side of me yet again, peering down through his ebony bangs suspiciously. "and why would you do that?" he asked softly, "little miss goody-two-shoes not only _allowing, _but ensuring a dirty little deed takes place."

I shove him away from me, annoyed that the stereotype that still follows me around, even after the war and everything I had to do to win it.

"_because_ " I snap frustrated, " Repression is a one way ticket to a pardoned ex-convict following a girl home from school and jumping her in an alley!"

He frowns and backs away a couple more steps. "So this is to prevent a dirtier deed later on?"

"does it matter?" I counter. Evidently it does. "I empathise with you okay? I know what it's like and I want to help." Only a half truth. There's also the small fact that I can get something out of this arrangement as well.

I don't think this is the end of this conversation, but I know he needs what I can offer more then he needs answers.

"so what do I need to do" he ask, "in order to receive some… _help?_"

He needs to stop making innocent words sound filthy.

"You have to make an unbreakable oath not to harm anyone unless I give you permission or your life is in danger." I inform him flatly. "And nor can you provoke anyone into fighting with you and _eliciting _a life threatening situation. "

"Why do I need to make an unbreakable oath?" he asked shrewdly, his expression carefully blank.

I paused, trying to decide why it was I felt so wary of him.

"because I don't trust you." I said at last.

Snakes can shed their skin, but the design underneath is just as scaly.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, not removing the inscrutable mask of calm that his face has become. I wonder why someone usually so tumultuous and violent with their emotions would be so still when they are so close

But of course, he's _afraid_ of what he wants. Ultimately, he knows that he's come back a little rough around the edges, just a tiny fraction less of the person her once was; and that scares the shit out of _any_ ex-hero, no matter how far gone they are.

"so." He says finally, still not giving any indication of whether or not he's relieved or suspicious at my offer. "when do you want to do this?"

I blink, surprised at his automatic assent, apparently not needing much time to think it over. To be honest, I didn't really have a fully formulated plan yet, I figured he would want time to make a decision.

Although, there's a iota of hunger creeping it's way into his dark eyes, and I suspect he wants to curb the craving more then he wants to consider the consequences of our deal.

"Give me a week" I tell him firmly. "I need to make some arrangements first, and I don't really want to make an oath to help you and then find out it's unfeasible."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you don't know if you can really help me after all?" There's a note of threat creeping into his voice that I don't particularly care for, so I roll my eyes at him and walk past him to the stairs, a list of tasks already formulating in my mind.

"Of course I can." I tell him as I reach the stairs, and there really isn't any doubt in my mind at all. "I am Hermione Granger after all."

And with that I smirk and saunter down the stairs, leaving him standing in the hallway, trying to control the look of hunger etching it's way across his face.

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><p>I feel like I've made Hermione a bit too Slytherin here… although, to be fair, she was in a rather bloody war, so something's would have changed her.<p>

Hope you liked, Dahlings.

Nixon. x


	3. Ignorance is your new best friend

Thank you to everyone who reviewed/subscribed, and thanks especially to B-Mine for your comments – I was worrying about Hermione's deviousness, I didn't want to butcher the character too much, but your review settled that matter.

Just a quick warning, I have changed the tense in this chapter, sorry if this majorly irritates anyone, I just feel like it will fit the story better from now on.

Right, onward and upward!

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><p>Contrary to conventional wisdom, Hermione Granger was not the poster girl for innocence, nor did she sit in the library all day polishing her halo. One did not help win a war, and retrieve an ex-convict from the veil without getting one's hands dirty and collecting a few shady names on one's speed dial.<p>

Really, her leverage over Rita Skeeter should have warned her friends that she was not just a pretty face with a penchant for reading.

Getting Sirius back, did not require any particular skill or talent, or even any specific knowledge, but it did need street smarts, and some devious manipulation on her part. Instead of the veil resulting in death like the Golden Trio had been lead to believe, it was actually a teleportation device originating from the middle ages when the Ministry of Magic had first been established.

As she was hit by the rather vicious curse that put her in the hospital wing, Hermione had found herself lying on the cold stone floor, inches away from the archway. Just before unconsciousness took her, she had noticed a rune carved into the stone, very small and close to the bottom. Being the inquisitive knowledge-seeker she was, and needing an outlet for the grief the three of them felt, she had spent that summer researching the rune in every ancient dialect book she could get her hands on. And then she found it:

பிடி - the ancient rune for "Take".

So, when the final battle was over, Hogwarts had been graduated from, order of Merlin (First Class) recieved, and the spotlight had recinded slightly, Hermione Granger dedicated her life to secret keeping. Or secret using, depending on your point of view.

Not for peopl's protection you must understand, and not in the conventional way. Hermione was not bound by a charm or curse, nor did she aquire her secrets willingly. Instead, she became once of the most trusted advisees to the Minister of Magic. Hermione Granger became a political spy.

Under a corporate and official sounding title, She was given political immunity and sent around the world, department to department, gleaning secrets from every official she brushed shoulders with. She then reported her finding to the Minister where she deemed it prudent, but sometimes she kept them to herself. Afterall, she had always maintained, that knowledge was power.

After just four weeks in Kingsley Shackbolt's service, She had learnt some quite serious and potentially damaging secrets about the inner workings of the Ministers office. Three secrets, to be precise:

That Severus Snape was indeed alive, having created a horcrux himself, and had now replaced Karkaroff's original replacement at Durmstrang School.

That the second a new minister was implemented, they acquired certain memories of every one of their predecessors, to escape any nasty surprised later on.

That, perhaps most interestingly, Kinglsey Shacklebolt was wanted by muggle authorities for the torture and murder of a citizen in Switzerland.

Now, obviously, no one was more sympathetic then Hermione about what the war did to people, especially to someone with Kingsley's integrity. Similarly, no one would understand as well as Hermione how vicious, coming home to find your wife dead in your bed, can make someone. But unfortunately, no one was as ruthless or determined as Hermione either. And when Hermione wanted something, she usually got it, sympathy present or not.

So, after presenting her boss with a document pertaining the information in question, along with a suggestion of how she could make it go away as long as she got her cut, the minister found himself quite eager to give her what she wanted. And she wanted information.

She knew that the rune on the archway meant "take" and she knew that the archway dated back to the middle ages and she knew that Sirius had appeared as a ghost in Marvolo Gaunt's old ring. Therefore she understood that in all likelihood, the Archway meant death. However, Sirius Black's specific fate was an unknown piece of history, and Hermione Granger _loathed_ loose ends.

Needless to say, Shacklebolt did not require much more persuasion to tell her that the Archway was an old method of punishment and intimidation before Azkaban had been built. Stupidly, they had never thought to decommission _Vitae Lacus_, the prison that the Archway leads to.

Unfortunately, there were still particular enchantments in place. As soon as anyone touched the veil, if they had a criminal record outstanding, or were wanted for anything, they were immediately teleported to said prison and forced to serve their sentence there. Luckily, it only took fifteen minutes for Hermione to wave her document of blackmail, have Kingsley pardon Sirius, and then apparate down to the department of mysteries just in time for it to spit a rather irate and very young looking Sirius Black out at her feet. Now that he was a free man, the prison didn't want him anymore.

Like all poorly designed ministry objects, something had gone wrong, and the Sirius they got back had spent five years of _his _time in the prison, but had somehow arrived back in the real world at the physical age of 32, looking every inch the handsome, care free aristocrat he once was. Provided he had his hauntingly wicked eyes shut when you were looking at him.

Hermione had mused that there must be something wrong with the archway's time vortex, but she hadn't really put much effort into finding out anything more as she heaved Sirius to his feet, vaguely noticing a group of Techi-Wizards rushing forwards to dismantle the thing.

Sirius had not come back from the dead wrong, but back from _prison_ wrong. And he had yet to divulge any details over what he endured during his time there.

Nothing good judging by the shivers that went down Hermione's spine as she listened in on his dreams for the first time.

When Hermione had offered her help to Sirius for his rather unconventional desires, she had only half a plan formulated in her mind.

The actual execution of the plan wouldn't be too tricky, but keeping it subtle and discreet, would be a challenge. It wouldn't do for Hermione Granger to come out of this anything other than squeaky clean.

She decided that this needed a second opinion, someone who had experience in cloak and dagger operations, someone who could think of a way to carry out a scandalous operation efficiently, quietly and effectively.

Really, she was getting far too much enjoyment out of this.

The next week, she took a week's holiday for the first time since she started working for the Minister's office and packed her bags that same evening.

By the time Grimmauld place woke up the next morning, all they found was a note saying she had gone away and not even Sirius' wrath at her sudden disappearance could convince any of her colleagues to divulge her whereabouts.

Truthfully, no one knew where she was. And people knew better then to try and find out.

Ronald Weasley was a little peeved his girlfriend hadn't told him she was off, but the annoyed thought quickly faded as the topic of Quidditch came up.

Harry Potter was used to his second best friend vanishing without a word, and so didn't let it distract him from attempting to charm a _very _well aged Pansy Parkinson into his bed.

But Sirius Black, who was brooding in his study with a glass of Firewhiskey, was busy concocting plans of how to make sure she suffered, if the little minx had left him high and dry, after promising him release from the aching torment following him around. As he watched her screaming for mercy under his wand in his mind's eye, he couldn't help but allow himself a brief smirk at how confidently she assumed he would bind himself to an unbreakable oath.

Dark magic wasn't exactly a taboo subject growing up in the Household.

Hermione was completely oblivious to the conniving pureblood, and was instead busying herself with staring disdainfully at the map she had borrowed from the Ministry archives.

Trudging wearily up the path to the Norwegian equivalent of Diagon Alley, she resolved never to move to Svalbard.

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><p>Vitae Lacus is Latin for "Life debt". The prison is only meant for convicts serving a life sentence. The Rune is Swahili.<p>

Notice I deliberately left out _how _Hermione worms secrets from people – you will find out later.

Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, and sorry if it doesn't read very well or is boring – I'm very sleepy!

Yes I resurrected Snape. To be fair though, I would have gladly lost Astoria Greengrass, Professor Trelawney _and_ Percy Weasley, if JK had just let Snape live. I love him.

He will probably play a minor part, but I haven't decided exactly what yet.

And the first person who guesses where Hermione is, and who she is visiting _without_ googling gets to decide Ron's fate. Your choices are Gay, a cheat, or just a crap boyfriend. I'm inclined to go with gay personally, it's a bit kinder, but up to you. And it won't happen for a bit.

Thank you again for reading Dahlings.

Nixon. x


	4. You think that you're the real deal

Thank you for all your reviews, and well done to "hvnsllbbygrl" for guessing where she was going. I agree with your idea, and think that may happen later on :P

And thank you to Lea as well for your lovely review, it did make me smile.

Anyways, enough from me, what's our favourite schemer up to?

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><p>If there is one thing in the world that Hermione Granger loathed, it's being made to feel inferior.<p>

She had dealt with being undervalued and taken advantage of by her friends throughout her younger Hogwarts years.

She was used to being overworked and used as a shrink by the boy-who-lived-to-moan.

She had lived through a war against one of the most powerful wizards in the world, who happened to be hell-bent on destroying everything that she represented.

But sitting here, in the office of the one teacher who always managed to make feel as though she had handed in a 'D' grade homework with her uniform on back to front, Hermione Jean Granger felt inferior. Her dislike for Sirius Black was growing, he being the reason she was sitting here in the first place. As a boarder-line obsessive overachiever, Hermione's memories of her old Professor were less than pleasant, especially since she was there to ask for his help. His help on something which she doubted he would either approve of, deem it a valuable use of his time, or feel inclined to assist her. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she decided that maybe coming here was a mistake.

His office did not contain any of the comforting light or features that Dumbledore's had. It was rectangular, with two chairs in front of a large dark wood desk, and various shelves around the room. There was a framed picture on his desk, but she couldn't see what it was of, and she doubted he would appreciate her looking. Various jars and bottles of liquids and potions were stacked neatly in shelves around the room, but the most prominent feature was the large portrait behind his desk. It was blank for the moment, but she would have liked to see who was important enough to become the only portrait in Professor Snape's office. There was a door to the left of the portrait, that she assumed lead to his quarters, again posing the itching temptation to take a quick peak at what made the newly pardoned Death Eater tick. The dark atmosphere was making her even more nervous, and at a noise behind her, she jumped out of her seat, whirling around like a startled doe. She came face to face with the object of her apprehensive musings.

"Miss Granger." He acknowledged coolly, any surprise he felt at her presence not showing on the cautious mask that his face was arranged in. He gestured for her to sit again, and did the same himself on the imposing chair behind his desk, simultaneously conjuring two glasses of what looked like Firewhiskey. "I'm assuming that this isn't a social call?"

Apparently he wasn't one for small talk or letting people choose their own beverages. To be fair though, even Hermione herself would be a tad irritated if someone showed up in her office after she had made it clear she was trying to start a different life. Hence, she put aside any hesitant enquiries after his health and proceeded to get straight to the point.

"I need your advice." She admitted, accepting the proffered glass and taking her seat once more, keeping her eyes on the headmaster's face.

His mouth curled up into a familiar sneer, his black eyes glinting with the possibility of humiliating yet another student, ex student or not. "And what would the know-it-all-Gryffindor need her loathed teacher's help for?" His voice was silky and triumphant, and she was suddenly struck with the similarities between the last remaining Maurauder and the man sitting in front of her. "Can't you find the answer in a book?"

Ding Ding. Game on.

"well _Professor_," she began, enunciating his title sibilantly, "I don't think anyone has ever written a book based upon the sexual habits of an ex-convict." She took a sip of her drink, amused to see his mask flicker slightly, almost like a twitch, telling her he knew who her antagonist remark concerned.

There was a slight pause before his expression became lazily amused.

"And what makes you think that I would be willing to help out the man who was the bane of my existence for most of my teenage years?" he asked almost pleasantly, but with a darker edge to his words.

She stared calmly back. "You wouldn't be helping Black, you'd be helping me." Fingers crossed. "and you'll do it because you are a good man, above such petty grudges, and because I'm pretty sure I can repay you for your assistance."

Little bit of flattery, small amount of promise, a hint of a challenge. Hermione Granger knew how to win people round without legilimency, even her irritable potions master currently frowning, trying to figure a way out of the trap she'd squeezed him into.

"Very good Miss Granger." He hissed smoothly. "now if I refuse, I'd be proving your rather generous summary of my character wrong." He raked his eyes over her. "Why weren't you sorted into Slytherin I wonder? You would have made an excellent Death Eater."

Knowing he was trying to provoke her, she tried very hard not to take that as a compliment, understanding that the intent was to rile, not flatter. She maintained eye contact with him calmly for a few seconds before answering, the pause in her dialogue making the statement all the more poignant. "Small matter of blood." She explained at last.

He had the grace to look mildly contrite for a nanosecond, until a frown of slight confusion overcame his features.

"What is it exactly you want from me Miss Granger?" This time there was no malice behind his words, the question a genuine query, one genius to another.

She chose her words carefully, she had equal amounts of fear and respect for her old Professor and would have liked to avoid sounding immature or callous. Setting her drink down and sighing, she rubbed her eyes before continuing.

"It seems Mr Black has… eclectic tastes." She confessed, slightly relieved to confide her rather grisly findings in another human being. "Ever since he came back from Lacus Vitae, he's been… rawer." She winced at the pauses in her words slightly, Hermione Granger was never normally this graceless in her speech. "He craves darker things, has dreams, he's lost any inhibitions he once had –" She ignored Snape's snort at this, "-and I'm afraid that that's all going to spill over into his reality. Like he can't keep the lid on the box he's shoved his subconscious in."

Snape regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "And why should this be any of your concern?" He asked flatly.

She gaped.

"Well, I-"

He interrupted her argument before it had even began. "You aren't his minder, or even his relative. You served our world enough through the war, you continue to serve it in your frankly dangerous job at the ministry, you have worked hard to get where you are now, and you want to waste your talents on a man who is the biggest waste of space I have ever had the misfortune to meet?"

It sounded as if he had wanted to say that for a long time.

She glared at him. "It would break Harry's heart for one thing if he knew, and not to mention the havoc he could wreak if he acted on his depraved fantasies."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And…?" he prompted.

"and… I pissed him off by rifling through his mind." She confessed. "I've already agreed to help him. Reneging on my promise will not end well for me."

"And you think that lazy oaf could best you?" Snape asked scathingly. "C'mon Hermione, what's in it for _you?_" His use of her real name shocked her into honesty. It was so unlike the cold man she had known at school.

"I'm going to draw up a contract." She explained. "Ensuring mine, and the other's safety and that he add me to the Grimmauld Place ownership papers."

"So as a co-owner of the house you would have access to all of its secrets?" The Professor asked shrewdly, his surprise thinly veiled, as he narrowed his eyes. "Does the brains of the golden trio wish to study dark magic?" There was a sly tone to the question that Hermione didn't like, almost as if he knew something she didn't.

She nodded, not very willing to acknowledge her intent out loud.

"I'm assuming that this is why you're here then?" He hypothesised further, realising her thought process. "You have a certain brand of magic in mind to help him and you want to check the ramifications of using the dark arts?"

The incredulity in his voice sounded vaguely like an accusation and she bristled at his implication.

"Dark magic by definition is any brand of magic used with the intent to harm!" she snapped hotly. "I could use a giggling hex with mal intent and it would technically be classed as dark magic!"

He rolled his eyes. "Good to know that your textbook knowledge has not diminished with time." He commented dryly, apparently not noticing her irritability. "So what kind of magic did you have in mind?"

She faltered, wary of revealing too much, and of his sudden change in attitude. "It's a spell I invented." She ventured cautiously, her previous anger gone as quickly as it came. "It's an adaptation of the reality distortion curse, only it uses a memory, though or dream to start and then the person it is cast on has control over the situation completely, and the effect of feeling like it was a dream is nonexistent."

He stared at her nonplussed. "That's brilliant."

Taken aback by his frank praise, she couldn't help but feel elated at finally having gained his approval. "I tested it on one of the Azkaban inmates." She confessed, still not sure if she should tell him this. "Lucius Malfoy is still convinced he lost his soul to a dementor."

If her cruel experiment had bothered him, he did not show it. "How long afterwards do they remember their experience as an actual event?" He asked.

"That's the loophole. They remember the event as real until the spell caster tells them it's fake. Then all memories fade completely. The only side affects are dreams, mimicking the sensations you were subject to whilst under the curse."

He nodded. "That sounds like a small piece of genius Miss Granger. Your talents are wasted on the Ministry and Black I'm afraid."

She took this as the end of their discussion. "So you agree it will work?" she asked for clarification, and to shake the nagging feeling that she needed to justify herself. "It's the only choice I have. He's too high profile and it would be too complicated to find a whore willing to be so utterly dominated without mercy."

"I do think it is your best choice." He agreed. "And I think it will work very well, but my door is always open if you reach any kinks. I will have the wards adjusted for direct apparation to my office for you."

She was not fooled by his agreeability. "And in return professor?" she inquired.

He smiled lasciviously. "Am I that transparent?"

"It is shameful for an ex-spy" she confirmed wryly.

There was a pause as he became sombre once more.

"Maybe we could keep a written correspondence Miss Granger." He requested hesitantly. "and I should like you to give me a demonstration in your new brand of legilimency as well."

It was her turn to blush. "Am I that transparent?" she echoed.

"I'm afraid so." He conceded amusedly. "Be less obvious in your attack next time. I will admit that it is a very clever adaptation of the skill but it needs honing, which I cannot help you do without understanding the concept."

She laughed and looked away, setting her glass down on the table by her elbow. She stood gracefully, shrugging on her cloak and fastening it. "Of course Professor" she agreed, holding out her hand when he had also stood. "Your demands are perfectly acceptable."

"Pleasure doing business with you Miss Granger" he murmured, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Have a safe journey."

She nodded and turned to leave, briefly reflecting on the vanishing of her fear for yet another one of her demons.

So wrapped up in this new revelation was she, that she not feel the troubled eyes that bored into her back with her departure.

"You made the right choice headmaster." Came the cool voice from the previously blank portrait behind his desk.

"Did I?" Severus asked tiredly.

"You forget that you do not see her in her natural habitat." Reminded the voice. "Miss Granger is on a slippery slope. Her interest in the Dark Arts cannot end well, nor can her affiliation with my brother, as damaged as he is."

"Maybe we are underestimating her." Severus defended. "You cannot deny her brilliance."

"Tarnished by the war she lived through. We both know what you have to do to survive through a war so vicious at such a young age. Assuming the worst is a necessary evil."

Severus sighed. "I'm beginning to see where Dumbledore was coming from most of time."

The portrait smirked. "But I have a feeling it will be slightly more gratifying to manage Miss Granger than it was to manipulate Potter."

The Headmaster smirked back. "It will be fun, not to mention, _educational_."

With that last salacious innuendo, the ex-potions master turned his attentions to the papers on his desk, and his painted companion disappeared once more to his other portrait in a dark room that no one ever touched out of respect. Even the resurrected master of the house could not look at the gold name plate without flinching at the letters that seemed to glare at you with foreboding hostility. Since the end of the war, his name had connotations that wrapped the older generation in guilt for their pre-determined judgement of him. From the day they all heard the full story of the Boy-who-lived and his defeat of the Horcruxes, when the original members of the Order of the Phoenix still living had to mention him, they simply referred to him as R.A.B.

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><p>You didn't think Snape had become a big ol' softie with no ulterior motive did you Dahlinks?<p>

This is really getting quite exciting, Is there any story-lines/ characters you would like to make an appearance? I cant promise anything but I may be able to incorporate some ideas.

And similarly, if there is anything you particularly liked/despised about this chapter, too long or too slow, let me know and I'll speed up the next bit. Which may or may not contain a heated confrontation between Hermione and our favourite Black about her absence. I haven't decided yet.

Thanks again for reading/reviewing/subscribing/favouriting.

Nixon. X


	5. lying limp in your own hand

Chapter 5 – It won't be long until you're lying limp in your own hand.

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><p><em>This contract has been drawn up on the 24<em>_th__ October 2011, at Grimmauld Place, London, Binding Hermione Jean Granger and Sirius Orion Black magically and legally to fulfil their end of the deal unless a mutually agreeable termination/alteration can be reached. _

_I, Hermione Jean Granger do hereby swear, on my magic as a witch, to fulfil the agreed clauses as stated below, in return for the agreed upon services;_

_To provide Sirius Black with a means of sexual release according to the dream already shared._

_To keep the nature of said release confidential and private between Sirius Black and myself._

_To continue doing so until Sirius Black decides otherwise, and another clause is added, or a mutually agreed upon termination is implemented. _

_I, Sirius Orion Black, do hereby swear, on my magic as a wizard to fulfil the agreed clauses as stated below, in return for the services as stated above;_

_To not harm or provoke another resident of Grimmauld place, the Burrow, Spinners end or Godric's hollow, mentally, physically or emotionally._

_To keep the Nature of Hermione Granger's services private and confidential between her, and me understanding that any form of communication, including showing this contract to anyone counts as full disclosure. _

_To discreetly add Hermione Jean Granger as a co-owner of Grimmauld Place, legally and magically, thus granting her immunity and understanding to all wards and magics surrounding the house, and access to every hidden room and object, magical or not, pertained to the house. _

_As co-signers of this magically binding contract, we both understand the duties we are now required to undertake, and acknowledge that any attempt to deviate without a mutually agreeable clause being added, or termination fulfilled will result in severe consequences, with the risk of losing one's ability for magic entirely. By signing this parchment, I agree to the terms and conditions, and do hereby accept the responsibilities as stated._

_Signed:_

_Hermione Jean Granger. _

* * *

><p><em>Hermione Granger:<br>_

She's pretty sure she despises Sirius Black, and the rather clever magical contract drawn up has just reinforced this belief. He is the epitome of every flaw and aspect she loathes in a human being, the thorn in her side, like a nail dragged across the chalkboard of her consciousness. He's ruled by his desires, incapable of moderation or self-control, a slave to his cock. He's reckless and cruel, his time in a prison with no company but himself had brought out the Hyde of his personality, although the Jekyll he represses isn't all that noble either.

The truth is Sirius Orion Black is one hell of an SOB.

And he scares her, because she knows that she cannot control him, despite the contract, despite her superior intellect and skills, nothing can tame the rugged, tattooed stubborn man that she just swore to assist. And he knows that she knows that underneath the power plays and the games, she is nothing more than a cornered child fighting for a way to grow up.

Books cannot make up for experience, and he is 250 pounds of pure experience, rolled up into an irritatingly tempting package. He could show her things she hasn't considered, force her into feeling sensations she didn't know existed, and deep down she wants to let him.

Fortunately, she has a feeling he is a selfish lover, so as long as she takes care of his needs he won't be concerned with educating a 23 year old. It's a fact that she wont let him near her body or her mind with that intent anyway, even if the idea is fun to entertain when she's bored or restless.

Yes, she hates him. Although sometimes she wonders is she enjoys hating him just a little too much.

* * *

><p><em>Sirius Black:<em>

He hates her, of that he is certain. He hated how she has somehow emerged from the cocoon of her teenage years as exactly the sort of women he could see himself take pleasure in corrupting. He hates that he knows she would never let him corrupt her.

He hates how he now depends on her, he hates how he has a shrewd suspicion that he could tell her about his days in the veil and that she would understand, he hates being under her spell.

He hates that she frustrates him, that he cannot decide if he wants to run the tip of his wand across the smooth skin of her collar bone and watch he life ebb from her, or if he wants to tie her to his bed and never let her go.

He hates that the hair he wrap around his fingers in his dreams is becoming more and more brown and curly. He hates that he is beginning to suspect that burying himself balls deep inside of her and feeling her scream and sob as she unwillingly came around him would banish the dreams from the corners of his mind forever.

And above all, he hates the rage running through his veins that has been there since she left him hard with anticipation at the prospect of solving his desires, and then disappeared without a word.

He hates that she knows that he knows that he will do whatever she wants just for a taste of what she promised him.

* * *

><p>"Where have you been, Princess?"<p>

She doesn't need to turn around in order to see whom that silky voice belongs to, or to see the stormy scowl that is etched into the face that poses the question. Each syllable that voice produces feels like a wash of images across her skin, its dangerous currents and husky undertones create pictures in the mind of the listener that aren't wholly unwelcome. Then again, maybe only she can hear them now because she's been inside his head and she knows what kind of thoughts are behind each carefully selected word. Each question posed holds a certain amount of threat to discourage a lie, fuelled by the fantasies of revenge flickering behind the obsidian eyes, should the prey choose to deceive. Each noun caressed with knowing, the word rolled around his mouth a few times, as if he's spent years deliberating exactly how many filthy things he could do with the word before letting it go, coated in implicit innuendo. Every pause, every breath, every _inflection_ designed to torment or tease or soothe, his deliberate speech put together with the sole purpose of lulling the oblivious listener into a false sense of any emotion he pleases.

Luckily for her, Hermione Granger is _never_ oblivious to anything.

The sudden thought that she is not helpless, nor is she susceptible to charm, and even if she couldn't charm him with honeyed words, she could still hex him into next week, gave her the courage to turn around and lift her chin, eyes and mind wary as she regarded the arrogant pureblood currently leaning insolently against the door jam of the library.

"I didn't realise I needed to fill out a time sheet for a vacation." She observed coolly, sauntering towards the pile of books and picking up another one to replace. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she turned to the pile and quirked an eyebrow, "besides, you're hardly one to lecture others about responsible time keeping, are you?"

She made her way over to the bookshelves again, searching for the right bookshelf on which to place the next book.

Before she left Durmstrang, she had stopped by to see Severus, requesting that he read the contract over to check for loopholes. After he had been unable to find him, he had given her several texts on dubious magic to help with her research, which made the books she had been using look like picture books.

To be honest she probably should have felt a little more apprehensive about making him sign this contract, considering the gaping hole that left her vulnerable, the hole that he would surely notice and exploit. Truly though, she could not bring herself to care. The knowledge she ached for was at her fingertips, the danger at creating such a gritty bond was exciting, the feeling at having such a hold on someone so wicked was empowering, and she couldn't bring herself to appoint any negative connotations to her actions. The giddy feeling of triumph was intoxicating.

His fingers wrap angrily around her wrist, hard enough to bruise, just as she reached for the next book. So deep in her thoughts was she, his existence had been forgotten. She looked into his obsidian eyes, the depths sparking with chaos and rage.

"You're angry." She stated with some surprise. Irritation she had anticipated, she knew he would be a tad ticked off, but she didn't think her absence would make him so full of rage.

He scowled and tightened his grip. "Of course I'm fucking angry kitten! Where have you been?"

She bristled at that. "None of your business." She shook his fingers away from her wrist, and stalked over to the bookshelf with the last book in her hand. "And it isn't my fault you are clearly over emotional."

He snorted and followed her to the corner of the room, standing behind her, waiting for her to turn and face him again. When she did, his arm went to the bookshelf behind her, a gesture that made their stance vaguely reminiscent of their episode in the hallway a week ago.

"You better have something good for me Hermione." The lack of an irritating pet name, the danger coiled into every syllable warned her not to fuck with him. For once, she listened to the sensible voice in her head, the one that voiced reason and sounded suspiciously like Professor McGonagall.

"I do."

She silently waved her wand and conjured the piece of parchment already bearing her signature.

"All you need to do is sign." She handed it to him, trying not to tremble with the weight of what was about to happen. "And then you have your first appointment tomorrow."

"Appointment?" he asked scathingly. "Is that what we're calling it?"

She merely raised an eyebrow and held out the parchment to him.

He took it and turned away, unfurling it as he moved towards the desk in the corner of the library. He signed it at quickly, and they both drew in a breathe as they felt the whisper of a piece of their magic leave them. The scroll duplicated, the ink turned a dark red, reminiscent of blood.

Hermione felt like her legs would no longer support her; it was over so quickly, less then ten seconds to sign her life away.

"Interesting clause." Sirius broke the silence, coming over to stand near her, handing her one copy of the contract.

"Which one?" she asked shakily, taking the parchment he offered, noting that he looked graver than he normally did.

"Why do you want access to my house?" he asked her bluntly. "What could this hell hole possibly have to offer you?"

The curiosity in his voice told her that she wouldn't be able to conduct her research easily, and that in order to remain secretive, se would have to be duplicitous.

"I'm not sure yet." She lied, quickly tacking another sentence on as his expression darkened. "But, I will now be able to remove that hideous portrait of your mother if you want me to." That part wasn't a lie, she could feel the magic of every ward in the house swirling across her skin, and she knew precisely which spell would unstick the damn woman from the wall.

The elated smile on his face told her that her lie was forgotten, at least for now.

"Really?"

She nodded and smiled weakly, still feeling slight trepidation at the sensation of such dark magic surrounding her.

He laughed gleefully, suddenly looking much younger and a lot less dangerous, his face lighting up.

"That's brilliant." He declared, the laughter leaving his face slightly as he cocked his head to the side, looking like a dog listening for something. She didn't dare touch his mind to see what he was thinking; his good mood seemed only too volatile.

And she was right.

He stalked towards her again, only stopping when their faces were inches apart. "And I'm assuming you are aware of the massive flaw in that agreement?" His breathe ghosted across her face, his expression once again darkly blank.

She swallowed thickly and nodded.

Still he felt the need to clarify for her. "You are not a resident of Grimmauld place, Spinners end, Godric's Hollow or the Burrow." She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me where I _don't_ li-"

"Why didn't you write your own protection into that contract?" He interrupted demandingly.

"Do I need protection?" she asked quietly.

They stared at each other, him looking down, her looking up, until the sound of the library door hitting the wall with a bang as it opened violently broke the spell.

"Sorry to interrupt this romantic little scene," a sarcastic and _very_ familiar voice drawled, "but I need a word with Miss Granger."

Sirius went as white as a sheet, anger and confusion filling his features as he rounded on his unwanted visitor.

Silence reigned over the library as Severus and Sirius contemplated killing one another and Hermione Granger tried to think of how the fuck she was going to explain this one.

_Oh hell._

Who would have thought that helping Sirius Black get his rocks off would turn out to be so bloody fucking complicated?

* * *

><p>Well there you go. Again, anything you didn't understandlike or anything you did like can be stuck in a review for me to peruse and undertake for the next chapter.

I think this chapter was slightly darker and in a different style to my usual method of writing, so I hope it hit the spot.

The chapter title is lyrics from the song "Limp" by Fiona Apple. Check it out.

Thanks as always Darlings,

Nixon. X


	6. Real big plans & such bad thoughts

A massive thank you to all my reviewers, and all of you who subscribed and favourited either the story or my pen name, you guys are fabulous! And sorry this chapter is a tad late.

Bel Black Potter Malfoy, Thank you for your comments, you're a babe, and I would love some song suggestions, an author can never have too much inspiration! As for Luna, as much as I love your idea, I really want Hermione to work this out for herself. Don't worry though, I have a plan for Luna.

IAMAMANDA, Thank you for your comments as well, you guys are my biggest (and only) critics, so good to know I'm doing a good job!

And last but not least; tennis14321432 and Octavia (), you two are babes. Thanks for dropping me a review they are delicious. Glad you love the story, will do my best to keep it up.

AND, I have just noticed a HUGE grammar mistake in the title of my last chapter and the story summary, so I apologise PROFUSELY to anyone who was bothered by it, and will be rectifying them immediately. My only excuse is exhaustion.

Now, are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6- I've got real big plans and such bad thoughts.<p>

"Snivellus." Sirius stated pleasantly. "Would you like to tell me what the actual fuck you are doing here?" The calm manor in which he posed the question was belayed by the flash in his eyes and the tense outline of the rigid, locked muscles in his back. He sounded as though he inviting him to a tea party, but he looked as though he ready to rip his throat out. Fortunately, if Severus felt in any way threatened or offended by either the nickname or the warning carved into Sirius' face, he did not show it, craning his neck to address Hermione instead.

"Miss Lovegood was kind enough to let me in." He dismissed Sirius with the calm explanation, not seeming at all perturbed with the idea that he was supposed to be dead. "As for the purpose behind my visit, I can assure you it's business, not pleasure. Miss Granger?"

Hermione was pretty sure that the swallow intended to dislodge the lump of nerves in her throat was audible throughout the room, although neither man seemed to notice her hesitation as she stepped around Sirius, slipping her copy of the contract into her pocket simultaneously.

"Professor." She greeted him warily, not sure if she should feign shock or not, especially since he hasn't made any clear attempt to hide or disclose her knowledge of his survival. "Is there a problem?"

Hyper aware of the scowling animagus that had just tensed up in outrage at her lack of shock, she prayed that Snape would choose his words carefully, and not give the ex-convict a reason to exploit the convenient hole in her contract. Considering that he had spied on the most evil and powerful wizard in the world for nearly 30 years, she should technically have no reason to be worried. But then again, she couldn't account for childhood rivalries, nor predict how petty he was willing to be.

"Not at all." The object of her panicked inner monologue purred, with a leer that the situation didn't exactly warrant, "but I do have something I need to discuss with you."

"of cour-"

"Now hang on." Interrupted a rather irate Sirius Black. "I think that before you two start _discussing_- " Hermione winced at the lusty inflection, "-anything, I want some fucking answers!"

He certainly didn't look like the sort of man one would sanely refuse. Rage and confusion were coming off of him in waves, his posture reminiscent of a coiled spring, his accusing glare digging into Hermione's back. Luckily Snape had spent years as the go-between for two of the most merciless lunatics in the world and had managed to come away better than both of them. For him to find difficulty in hoodwinking this sex-starved maniac would frankly be an insult to his entire profession. Apparently Hermione was thinking along the same lines, as she suddenly started speaking to Sirius, her previous demeanor of slightly shaken confusion now non-existent.

"Professor Snape survived Nagini's attack Sirius," She told him calmly. "It wasn't announced because he wanted to avoid public scrutiny."

Sirius adopted the look of someone who would gladly maul Snape to death himself.

"So he decides to suddenly show up and renounce his little hermit lifestyle?" The question came scathingly sarcastic.

"I took the liberty of obliviating Miss Lovegood the second I was past the wards." Snape interjected smoothly, his voice sounding like warm butter compared to the way Sirius curled his tongue around the rough edges of his words.

If Sirius took the time to spit back an outraged insult or remark, Hermione was only half aware of his verbal battle with their unexpected visitor. She was busy snaking her way into Sirius' mind, taking the gamble that his current emotional volatility would make his mental defense vulnerable, a gamble that paid off.

Unlike last time, she was fully prepared for the complete lack of discipline that existed inside his head. She let the current of his tumultuous thoughts pull her in, but instead of being pulled under, she rode the waves carefully without disrupting his inner monologue too obviously. Keeping half a mind on the frankly childish row going on between the two men, she surreptitiously searched his thoughts.

No mean feat considering she also had to keep the glazed expression of concentration of her face. Listening with half her mind, she was vaguely aware of Professor Snape goading Sirius, which may have had something to do with the sudden flash of outrage that consumed his thoughts.

"- laziness is hardly an admirable quality Black, so it's hardly surprising that someone with Miss Granger's intellect chose to consult me rather than you…"

She flicked through his thoughts slowly, not looking for anything specific, just scanning for anything that could potentially be useful or potentially threatening. From what she could tell, he was mainly consumed with hatred for his former child-hood nemesis, and the few feelings she gleaned that were directed at her mainly involved relief and even gratitude.

Maybe she had misjudged him. Maybe he had gotten better at hiding what he was thinking.

Either way, remaining in his head any longer would only serve to alert him of her presence or maybe ruin the library when he lost his temper and tried to kill Snape. She withdrew from his mind, blinking, trying to look more alert, just in time to hear one last barb from Sirius.

"-hoping to get in her pants are you Snivellus? Hope she'll be all grateful for your _consultation_?"

"Actually Sirius, it's none of your business if I decide to shag him six ways 'till Sunday over your Father's desk," her crude interruption startled both men out of their defensive stances and icy glares. She thought that Severus looked faintly amused, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly at Sirius' furious expression.

"Not that I am going to." She added, wiping the triumphant gloating smirk off of Severus' face. "Now if you two gentlemen have finished squabbling, I believe you came here for a purpose professor?"

She resolutely avoided looking at Sirius, not sure whether to laugh at the frustrated vibe surrounding him, or to be wary of the murderous gleam in his eyes.

Snape nodded curtly and turned to open the door, sweeping through into the hallway, not checking to see if she was following. The door banged shut behind them and she lead him to her bedroom wordlessly, locking and warding the door, placing silencing charms around the room carefully.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed, rounding on him at last, forgetting her respect for her old professor in the light of her current adverseness of Sirius Black.

He merely raised an eyebrow, not looking at all perturbed by her less than polite outburst, or by the way she dragged him into her bedroom.

"Did you get what you needed Miss Granger?" He asked calmly.

She frowned. "Pardon?"

He sighed long sufferingly. "Inside Black's head you stupid girl! Do you really think I entertained Black's snivelling because I enjoyed his childish ranting?"

She coloured, embarrassed at her outburst. "I didn't realise I was so transparent." She admitted, not realising how obvious her attack on Sirius' mind was.

He smiled slightly, "It was only obvious to me because I was surprised that you hadn't interjected some sort of scolding in our little spat."

She sighed in relief.

"You must have some faith in your abilities Miss Granger." He frowned. "You do read people's minds and exploit their secrets for a living, clearly your success has not been down to a lack of subtlety."

"I know, it just seems as though Sirius is slightly more astute than most ministry employees." She admitted with a wry smile.

"You know you still haven't told me how your brand of Legilimency works."

Her turn to raise an eyebrow. "And what makes you think now is the time to divulge that information?"

"Well you did promise" he pointed out smugly, "And plus I am about to scrape you out of a rather large hole you appear to have dug, so consider it…" he paused to smirk at her offended demeanor. "reciprocation."

"What hole have I dug myself into?" She demanded irately, to caught up in her righteous indignation to be polite.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes. "I suppose you didn't consider the consequences of making a magical contract concerning other people?"

"I- what?" she asked confused.

"As brilliant as you are Miss Granger, it appears you have neglected to remember that anyone you include in a magical contract has to be notified by law." At her blank look he huffed annoyed, and began to speak in an exaggerated, slow patronising manner.

"Everyone protected via your contract just got a cheerful letter to explain the terms of your deal." He enunciated slowly.

Hermione hurriedly schooled her horrified expression into one of neutrality, maintaining her decorum as she tried to find an appropriate response to this revelation. She was Hermione Granger, she didn't make mistakes, and the knowledge that she had overlooked a small detail didn't seem to have an appropriate response.

"Holy fuck."

"Indeed." Snape looked disinterested, turning to scan her numerous bookshelves with a critical eye, apparently not noticing the internal fit she was having. "Luckily for you, one of us foresaw this and was sensible about it."

Now dread was surfacing to accompany the irritation she felt at herself and the nervous feeling attached to the seething convict they had left in the library.

"What did you do?" she asked bluntly, sitting down on her bed blindly.

"I sent an owl with your signature requesting that this contract be kept under wraps due to the delicate nature of its contents. Since the regulators of magical contracts are – "

"- not allowed to communicate with the outside world, they wouldn't be able to let it slip to anyone, and my signature means they assume the minister is behind it." She murmured, finishing his sentence for him.

"Quite."

"Hang on, how did you get my signature?" the sudden thought occurred to her, "and why did you need to discuss it with me if you had rectified the situation? Why risk being outed by Sirius when a simple owl would have sufficed?"

He smirked, "I was a spy Miss Granger." He pointed out. "and I deduced that if I came in person to explain my helpful meddling, you may be inclined to repay me for said help." He leered at her expectantly, an expression that was very unlike the professor she had known, and again drew an unwanted comparison between him and the last remaining maurauder.

"And I suppose you want to know the theory behind sideways legilimency?"

He nodded eagerly, and the kindred spirit inside her recognised the thirst for knowledge, the need to understand a concept that surpassed all other base requirements.

"People assume that the mind is two dimensional." She started to explain, walking over to him slowly. "They think that the only way to penetrate someone mind is from the front, looking into their eyes, windows to the soul."

"But that's corr-"

"No." She stated firmly, interrupting him. "If you are disciplined enough, you can slide around their shields as if they are a solid object, find a crack in the side." She paused for a moment, unsure of how to best explain. "May I?"

He nodded stiffly.

"Keep your shields up" she told him. "As If I'm about to intrude normally, this time I won't be discreet so you can work out what it feels like and try to mimic the movement."

She took a breath and cautiously lowered her own shields, wordlessly casting the spell, immediately coming into contact with the cool steel that was the front of his mental barrier.

Trying not to flinch at the feel of someone trying to breach his mind, Severus Snape fought the urge to repel her as he felt the light brush of her consciousness. The feeling disappeared, and then suddenly he felt a cool sensation sliding along the sides of his brain, like the feather light touch of a woman's fingertip. He suppressed a shiver as the feeling continued until he felt it lick the inside of his head ever so gently. Before he could even register the alien feeling, he heard Hermione's voice inside his head.

_Surprisingly pleasant isn't it? Not that I've ever been subject to it._

He growled in surprise and threw her out, slightly angry at the way she had so effortlessly intruded, but at the same time burningly curious about the knew brand of magic.

"That was – "

She was smirking at him, pleased she had made the normally fierce man speechless.

"May I?" He growled curtly in response, mimicking her words from earlier.

"You can try." She challenged him smugly. "I'm quite good at maintaining a shield the whole way around though."

He snickered at her arrogance and proceeded to cast the spell wordlessly himself, gently probing the front of her mind, before sliding experimentally to the side.

It was a bit like walking through a dark hallway, one hand on the wall to steady yourself, feeling the crevices in the wall under his fingertips.

He paused at a small crack he found due to her shield not being as strong as she thought it was. He eased into it carefully, ready to prise it open, but she flicked him out with a tiny mental giggle. He bared his teeth at her seeing worry in her dark eyes for a fraction of a second.

"Gah!"

The unladylike noise was forced involuntarily from her throat as he smoothly, but not gently, dove into her mind with ease.

He flicked lazily through her thoughts, alerting her that it was an unwise decision to assume he would respect her privacy and that maybe he had an ulterior motive.

Her first conversation with Sirius in the hall flicked behind her eyes but was discarded immediately.

She wondered what he was looking for, but was soon given the answer when she was plunged into another memory, helpless to do anything but watch along with the commanding presence of her old ally inside her head.

_They were standing in the Grimmauld place kitchen three feet apart and glaring at each other. _

"_You are fucked in the head, you know that?" She yelled at him, safe in the knowledge they were the only ones home._

_The rising fury in his eyes alerted her to how riled up he was getting, but his retort came low, cold and scathing, deceptively unaffected. "Eloquent, Granger."_

"No" She gasped in real life, struggling to push him out of the memory, panic making her stronger. She thought she had succeeded when the memory faded and he withdrew from her mind. She blinked the world back in focus, her knees weak from the unexpected assault. Before she had time to react, Severus had strode forward, gripped her right arm in one hand, her chin in another, forcing her to meet his eyes. He plunged back in and grasped the previous memory effortlessly.

"_Don't lecture me on crudity!" She fired back at him. "How could you do that? Why would you tell me that?"_

"_I didn't!" he roared at her, finally snapping, his new volatile personality bowing under the pressure. "You had no right to eavesdrop!"_

"_You shouldn't have discussed it in the middle of the kitchen!"_

_He bared his teeth at her wolfishly, stalking closer and seizing her arm. "Don't even think about telling anyone." He snarled at her under his breath, face too close for comfort._

"_Is that a threat?"_

"_Yes." He bit the word out before she even finished the last word properly. He opened his mouth to elaborate on exactly what he would do should she loosen her tongue but was stopped short by her want point digging into the flesh underneath his chin._

"_Let go of my arm." Her voice was quiet, deadly. He acquiesced and backed of a few paces, looking at her through narrowed eyes. _

"_Harry deserves to know." She told him, wand still trained on him. "And if he decides to cut you out of his life, deal with it. You should have known better."_

"_She came to me."_

"_Bullshit!"_

_He stalked a few paces closer, his hand curling around her fist, forcing her wand to her side. "She did." His voice was quiet, his eyes the only threatening piece of his demeanour. "She wanted to know, wanted to find out what it would be like."_

"_What what would be like?"_

"_Sex. With me."_

_She snorted in disbelief. "Don't flatter yourself Black, not every woman in the world is gagging for a piece of you." _

_He used the hand he was holding to yank her closer as she tried to pull away._

"_Ginny was." She looked away, the liquid wantonness in his voice and eyes unbearable, listening to his silken voice justify his betrayal was painful. He was speaking softly, inclining his head so his breath touched her ear, trying to manipulate her into keeping her mouth shut._

"_All she wanted was one night –"_

"_You are her fiancée's Godfather!" She snapped. "All he has! You should have known better."_

_His eyes hardened and he shook her slightly. "And whose gonna tell him? You?" She met his gaze defiantly. _

"_It would destroy him." He told her triumphantly. "You can't hurt him like that. Not when she's gone crawling back to him without any doubts."_

_Her response was faint, unintelligible but resigned in tone, slowly the scene faded and blurred as her room in Grimmauld place swam into view._

"What the hell?" She demanded furiously, ignoring Snape's wince as her hand connected with his cheek with a crack. "How was that information useful to you?"

He had backed away from her again, eyes glinting gleefully, although she couldn't for the life of her figure out why that memory was significant.

"If you tell anyone…" Her threat trailed off as she heard someone landing stairs, heading for her room.

He merely smirked at her and disappeared having got what he came for. She didn't have time to wonder how he did that despite the anti-dissaparation wards, or to question his rude perusal of an inconsequential memory, before a sharp knock came at her door.

She huffed and flung it open, cringing as she was met by the sight of Sirius standing menacingly on the other side. She winced expecting an outburst about Snape's visit, but his next words surprised her.

"Meet me downstairs in five." He told her Brusquely. "We're going out."

"Wha- Why?"

He turned around to look at her, his obsidian gaze piercing. "because it's time you delivered on your promise Granger."

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><p>She met him downstairs seven minutes later, after gaping wordlessly at his retreating back, she had pulled herself together and changed hastily. As she entered the kitchen, she decided that maybe his impending release had been a long time coming, if the way his eyes flicked up and down her form hungrily. She was only wearing skinny jeans with a green tank top and black blazer with the sleeves rolled up. Her curls were in a high ponytail, make up minimal and her stiletto boots on her feet, just her normal attire. His gaze was making her feel as if she naked.<p>

"Ready?"

He nodded and extinguished the cigarette he had been smoking as he leaned on the fireplace. He was wearing dark jeans and his leather jacket, his eyes veiled, his hair still tousled and messy as though he had been running his fingers through it.

"Where to?" His tone was curiously unacusational. She could only imagine that his desire was stronger than his confusion and dislike for Snape at this moment.

She wordlessly held out her arm, and as he took it, they were plunged into the blurry world that was apparation.

As his fingers closed over her arm in an unnecessarily tight grip, she wondered if maybe she had been mistaken, maybe she had underestimated two men today.

Sirius Black did not depend on her as heavily as she had assumed, and Severus Snape was not as willing to help as he had let on.

Both men wanted something from her, both men wanted to control her, both men had something to gain from what she could show them.

And unfortunately for her, for reasons which she couldn't fathom, both men were biding their time.

* * *

><p>Hmmmmm…. That felt messy. Sorry if it doesn't read very well, I finished it with a hangover.<p>

Chapter title is lyrics from 'the consequence' by You me at six.

Link to Hermione boots is below:

/christian-louboutin-black-suede-platforms-ankle-boots_

I really want some for myself.

Hope I didn't make you all hate Sirius after that little revelation, or Ginny for that matter. The Good news though, Hermione is being less arrogant and the real drama starts to kick off. Is that a thrill of excitement running down your spine?

Tataa Dahlings!

Nixon. x


	7. Link

Hello,

Quick Authors note in between updates… don't worry, I'm not quitting the story!

Someone alerted me to the fact that the link in the previous chapter lead to a "sick" website? Obviously, this must have been an error in the copying and pasting of the link. I would never intentionally post content that was so utterly inappropriate, and I wouldn't be looking at something like that anyway.

When I clicked on it myself, it just lead me to a dead server so I have reposted the link below in a slightly different format which should work this time.

I am very sorry to anyone who did have any trouble with the last link, I can assure you, I would not do anything to offend any of my readers, you're all darlings.

Here is the link:

http:/ h e r v e l e g e r s a l e f o r / christian-louboutin-daf-booty-160mm-suede-ankle-boots-black-p-6875 .html

Just take out the spaces

I really hope no one had too much trouble with the last one, and I hope no one is put off from reading the story.

Update will arrive early next week as usual.

Thank you everyone,

Nixon. xx


	8. If I could have a minute please

Thank you so much to all my reviewers and subscribers, You really are all wonderful, wonderful people. I love you to bits. Hope you like this chapter, slightly longer then my others but not a lot happens….. Hope it hits the spot.

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><p>Chapter seven – If I could have a minute please, I could bring you to your knees.<p>

It took fifteen minutes. To be honest, she wasn't complaining, it was cold, her feet hurt, and she couldn't quite shake the thought that she was perched on a hard stone wall outside a fake brothel, waiting for a sexually debauched ex-convict to emerge in a post-orgasmic sulk. Yes, she wasn't so naive as to assume that one night of pleasure would sweeten him up entirely.

She was still worried at the time it took. She hoped he just lacked self control rather then the distortion spell speeding up time for him. When she heard the door creak open, she had spun around to see him stumbling out, looking slightly punch drunk and still zipping his fly, reeking of the cheap perfume she had enchanted the house to smell like.

Even though she knew he hadn't really touched another girl, the sight of him had still sparked an irrational feeling of jealousy that she had been unable to tamper down. It was probably just because he had actually got something out of this night, something that wasn't a cold.

They had apparated straight to the front of the charmed building, where she had wordlessly handed him a slip of paper pertaining the address. He then was able to see the house and had walked inside without looking at her. Some clever sideways legilimency showed that he saw the brothel exactly as she had charmed it to look, had been pointed upstairs by a rather ugly old hag, and had opened the door to find a busty brunette naked and chained to the wall. She had withdrawn from his mind before she had seen anything else.

Now he strode past her, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He brushed shoulders with her as he passed, she winced at the smell of sweat and sex and pure Sirius that lingered on his skin, refusing to take the time to pick out the various scents. He had looked at her, his dark eyes even darker due to his dilated pupils, still breathing heavily. He had tilted his head, almost as if he was confused as to why she was still there, and for a moment he leaned in as though he was going to kiss her. She had kept still with her heart in her throat. Looking into those obsidian eyes she thought fleetingly that she could get lost in his eyes forever. She wondered if maybe he was just lost like she was, struggling to find his place in a world he did not understand and had been dragged into after being lost in the veil for so long. Maybe, he really was just longing to feel something again.

And then she felt a sharp stab across her frontal mental shield and knew then, that Sirius Black was nothing more then a self serving degenerate.

The force with which she repelled his attack brought him to his knees, her fury slicing through the endorphins that had previously clouded his pleasure addled mind.

She had stood over him, beautiful in her fury, not moving to attack or insult him, just looking down at him with a carefully neutral expression. And had then said calmly and coolly with no inflections or emotion,

"Come on, I'll buy you drink."

And then she had apparated them to a muggle bar in Soho.

And that little piece of retrospect leads us to the present, where they are currently sitting in silence, her with a gin and tonic and him with his third whiskey.

Neither one of them are particularly eager to break the silence.

"Why did you wait for me?" His voice was more husky then usual, and Hermione found herself wondering what noises he had been making in order to strain his larynx like that.

She swallowed tightly. "I wanted to see if you were ok." And if the curse worked she added silently.

He nodded and dropped his eyes back to his glass, swirling the amber liquid around with an air of forced nonchalance.

The silence around them was awkward, as though they hardly knew each other or were lovers in the middle of a tiff.

"What did Snape want?" Sirius posed the question without looking at her, only a slight inflection at the end of his sentence to make it sound like a question.

She regarded him thoughtfully without answering, and he didn't seem to notice she had ignored his query. His normally pale skin was slightly flushed, his hair curling slightly at the ends and sticking to his skin, looking slightly damp with sweat. His eyes weren't their usual clear, sharp black, but had a glazed look to them as though she was looking at him through a window. His usual smirking arrogance was absent in his face and the sharp lines of the aristocratic planes gave him a more serious, rugged, almost harsh expression. As he blinked, his long eyelashes brushed his face, inky black marks on his cheek bones. Dragging her eyes down his skin, she could see the outline of his collar bone where his shirt was unbuttoned, knowing that if she could see any lower, she would be confronted with the sight of the many tattoos adorning his chest.

She flicked her gaze up once more to find him watching her, aware of her blatant scrutiny. But try as she might, she couldn't will a blush to appear, despite being caught so openly studying him. She looked away and took a sip of her gin & tonic, unable to shake the disconcerting feeling of having him look at her intently this time instead.

"Why did you try and read my mind?" His previous question forgotten, she posed her own in a quiet voice.

Looking up, she caught his eye, and the smirk she knew so well suddenly adorned his face again making him look like the young maurauder everyone thought he was.

He shrugged carelessly. "I wanted to know what you were thinking."

"Why?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and taking another sip of her drink as his smirk widened and became even more wicked, slipping back into the mischievous personality he usually adopted.

"Because the girl I was with reminded me of you."

She spat her drink out over the table, gaping at him in disbelief as he chuckled at her expression and leaned back in chair, one hand coming up to rest his face on. She noticed his hands were tattooed as well, strange Celtic designs in black ink that contrasted with his pale skin. She tore her eyes away, slightly nauseous at the fact that she now had to _wrench_ her eyes away from his form, when disgust and fear for him used to come so easily.

"That doesn't explain why you were trying to break into my mind." Her words were cold, the fear that he had noticed her staring fuelling her hostility. His husky, amused chuckle told her he had noticed. Suddenly he leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table top, bringing his face far to close to her.

Something akin to delight gleamed in his eyes. "I was just wondering if that was intentional."

Any trace of awkwardness or fear vanished, the lingering feel of her previous rage hanging suggestively in the little air that there was between them.

"I most certainly am not responsible for that." _ That's right Hermione, haughty, we can do that… that's convincing…._

His grin only widened, much to her dismay.

"You expect me to believe that kitten?" Unfortunately he seemed completely at ease, no sign of a falsehood in his face. "Brown curly hair? Dark eyes? Pale skin? That's just a coincidence?"

A horrified stare seemed to be the only answer he was going to get. Indeed, how was she supposed to answer him? How was she supposed to tell him that the girl he just spent that time with was a figment of his own mind?

"You know you confuse me." Changing the subject seemed to be safest option of distraction right now. "You're a borderline skitzo – are you sure you're not a mental?"

He scowled. Good, antagonizing him was good.

"That had a hint of desperation about it love."

"You do." She ploughed on recklessly, anything to shake the topic of his Hermione-hooker he had conjured up. "You go from doing something as despicable as using another human like that, to trying to read my thoughts to attempting to wittily banter with me… how can you just move from one mood to another?"

Aside from trying to change the subject, she was truly curious, she had only really seen how the veil had twisted his libido. She hadn't had a chance to analyse how the veil, the war, how watching his friends die had changed him. They had all changed and everyone seemed to overlook the fact that Sirius Black was once a maurauder, not supposed to know the meaning of whimsical or melancholy.

For once in his life he appeared to be taking her seriously and had a slightly pensive look on his face.

"I don't know." He admitted, looking slightly vulnerable for what Hermione suspected was the first time in his life. "It's like sometimes, I'm back there – in the veil I mean…. And then I'm back in the real world again. Like a mood swing I guess."

His eyes were looking at the graining on the table, his hands open and palm down on the wood. He looked almost innocent with his bangs falling over his face and the light flickering on his skin, she stretched out a hand and placed it on his own, squeezing his hand slightly so that she gathered his fingers up in her own. He squeezed back gently.

"I get it." She told him, all thoughts of trying to best him flying out the window. "I understand."

He flipped his hand suddenly and wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist.

"Do you?" He whispered the question, flicking his eyes up to meet hers sharply. "_Do_ _you?_" He tightened his grip even more.

She swallowed. "It took me three days to get back from Svalbard, because I stopped to interrogate some one who was following me."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I _thought_ he was." She amended quickly, looking down. She breathed deeply before looking up again. "You aren't the only one who sometimes forgets it's all over."

She smiled thinly and tried unsuccessfully to shake her wrist out of his grasp. Instead, he flipped their hands over, so that hers was on top, his thumb now smoothing invisible circles into the fragile skin of her wrist.

"I would listen you know." He was murmuring quietly, his gaze on what his thumb was doing to the inside of her wrist. "If you needed to talk about what you went through. I could-" He paused and looked her eye, his black irises soft and his mouth wet from the soft promises he was uttering to her, _"understand._ If you wanted someone to know what the war was like for you."

Hermione laughed. She chuckled deep in her throat, tensing her hand into a fist as the circles Sirius was rubbing suddenly became vicious, painful in the face of her amusement.

"Nice try." She congratulated him with a smile. "I'm not that easily manipulated."

"Neither am I." he snapped, throwing her hand back across the table to her in disgust. "I did notice how you failed to answer my previous question about Snape."

Hermione sighed. "So, if I tell you all you want to know, you'll stop trying to read my mind, stop trying to manipulate me, and leave me alone?"

He nodded darkly, arms crossed and lips pursed in a vague pout, like a child who hadn't got his way. She wondered if he had been a difficult child.

"Well, what do you want to know?" There was no caution in her tone, Hermione had already resolved to lie through her teeth and was confident in her abilities to hoodwink him.

He blinked at her suspiciously, she widened her eyes innocently.

"How did Snape survive?" He asked finally.

"I saved his life. I had a bunch of potions in my undetectably extended bag, and as you know, I'm not exactly incompetent with magic." Her touch of arrogance made her lie believable. "I went back after Harry had gone to go and sacrifice himself."

"What did he want to speak with you about?"

_Think fast Hermione. _

"He keeps pestering me to come and teach at Durmstrang." That lie seemed to work judging by his snort of derision.

"Did you deliberately get me a girl that resembled you?"

"No." The truth this time. "I didn't know what she would look like when I made the arrangement.

"Why did you want to be a named owner of Grimmauld place?"

"I think there's a solution to Neville's parent's conditions in some of the hidden texts." She surreptitiously winced at using the Longbottom's wretched fates for her own ends.

"You didn't think to ask me?" He didn't believe her.

"I didn't trust you to not hold it against me as leverage." He seemed to buy that.

"Does anyone else know about what happened with the weaselette?" She fought back a smirk. _So he didn't trust her either. _

"No."

"Why are you dating Weasel?"

She stared at him. The scornful question was asked so maliciously, with such a familiar inflection to the derogatory nickname, that she had to stop herself from looking around for Draco Malfoy.

"That's your godson's best friend you're talking about!"

He shrugged. "Doesn't make him any less useless Love." His eyes glittered.

She narrowed her eyes trying to see the trick that she was sure existed. Maybe it was time for some truth? After all, she did owe Ron for forgetting her birthday last year.

"Ron's gay."

"All the more reason to ditch the degenerate, Princess." His face was unsurprised, his statement issued with a deadpan expression.

She smirked and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "If I break up with him now, he comes out of the proverbial closet immediately. I end up as the bad guy who trapped him in a loveless relationship for five years, as well as being humiliated for turning one of the most eligible bachelors of the century gay."

He was studying her intensely, as if he had never seen her before.

"But," she purred, carrying on and ignoring his roving gaze. "If I wait for him to cave under the pressure and announce to the world that he's been fucking Theodore Nott behind my back for the last three and a half years, I get to look grief-stricken and graciously forgiving, whilst he suffers his Mother's wrath for cheating on her favourite war hero."

She grinned and leaned back, looking at him lazily from under her eyelashes, pleased to share a small iota of her genius with another person.

"You are diabolical, woman."

"Why did you want to know?" She asked, suddenly curious again. "You could have asked a whole plethora of questions aside from that one."

"Just wanted to make sure you're all working properly Kitten." Now he leaned back lazily. "After all, not moving in together after five years does look a little odd."

"what can I say?" Hermione adopted a look of puzzled hurt. "I just don't understand why my boyfriend just won't _connect _with me."

He caught her eye and suddenly, the both started laughing, genuinely and loudly as if they had just shared an in-joke. Taking amusement in their shared deviousness.

And then they remembered who they were laughing with and sobered up quickly.

"Interrogation over?" Hermione asked softly, after a pause.

He nodded slightly, raising his glass to his lips. "For now."

She stood gracefully and buttoned her blazer. "Well, I'm going to go home and move the rest of my stuff from my Grimmauld room to my flat, if that's ok."

She was technically living in a flat in muggle London, but the majority of her stuff was still at Grimmauld place. She had lived there for three years after the war but had soon got bored. Her stuff had remained in her old room for about a month now, mainly due to the fact that her friends were all too absorbed in their libidos to help her move out properly. After tonight however, she had decided that it would be best to put some distance between herself and Sirius. Especially since she could now bypass the wards and borrow things from the library without him noticing.

He nodded his approval at her. "G'night Hermione."

She smiled at him and moved to walk past him, but he suddenly stood and placed his hand on her elbow, preventing her from moving. Unlike most other times when he had manhandled her, his touch was gentle and undemanding. He leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheek slowly.

"Thank you." The word was uttered to quietly, she wondered if she had misheard him. She nodded and walked past him hurriedly, trying to ignore the sudden flare of awareness in her belly at his familiar farewell.

He watched her leave the building and then turned to sit down again, only to find that Hermione's recently vacated seat was now filled with a new presence, who was finishing Hermione's gin and tonic with relish.

"Well played."

Sirius greeted his new companion by smiling salaciously and patting his lap suggestively. She did as he insinuated and seated herself on his lap, turning so that his lips brushed her ear as he spoke.

"Not really." His hand curled around her inner thigh, indifferently though, as though he wasn't very interested in where his hand was going. "All of that was total bullshit."

"All of it?" His hand tightened and he growled a warning at her questioning him.

"Yes." He was lying now, he knew exactly which of his questions had been answered with the truth by the lovely Miss Granger. "All of it."

"You seem very determined to destroy the golden trio. I thought you were all thick as thieves?" The curiosity in the question was masked slightly, as though the speaker was afraid of being rebuked for prying.

"I would just like to bring that girl down a peg or two is all." He dismissed the subtle concern in her voice quickly.

He began to kiss her neck softly, distracting her from her concerns that maybe her lover wasn't as forthcoming as he said he was. "_I'm_ not a way to bring her down though." Her argument was half hearted.

" 'Course not." His gruff promise was muffled by the soft skin of her throat. "your situation just can't be helped. 'Can't keep my hands of you." He emphasised his point by running his thumb harshly along the seam of her jeans.

His reward was for her to unzip his fly and slip her small hand inside, carefully curling her fingers around him as he silently cast a notice-me-not charm.

"He will be so-"

Whatever her next statement was going to be, it got cut off with a gasp. Instead, Pansy Parkinson bit back a groan as she suddenly found herself face down on the table with her jeans halfway to her knees.

Sirius Black was a little too preoccupied with removing his own jeans to let her know that, the only reason he was screwing his Godson's girlfriend, was because she was going to become very useful to him later.

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><p>Don't hate me, I'm sure Harry will get over it. And anyway, Pansy's whorishness will result in a rather clever plan being put into action. Which may or may not in turn lead to some rather delicious scenes between our two favourite plotters.<p>

But no spoilers.

Again, very Sorry for the trouble with the link in the last chapter, don't know what happened there, or if anyone else had trouble with it but the new one should work fine.

Again, review if there is anything you hated/loved/want to see. Feedback is not required, but it does make me feel warm inside.

I may not upload a whole chapter again until the new year, it depends how busy I am. Rest assured though, I will see this fanfiction through 'till the end. I already have the last chapter written, its just filling in the spaces that takes time.

So if I don't see you before then, have a wonderful Christmas and a lovely New year.

Thanks again for reading, you people are my muse.

Nixon. x


	9. Got a secret, can you keep it?

I know I know! I have no excuse for leaving it so despicably long before updating. Major shit went down over Christmas and then other various event happened and then exams came and it all killed my Muse. But, I'm back! And will be updating much more regularly from now on, so please don't hate me!

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><p>Chapter eight - Got a secret, can you keep it?<p>

Sirius Black was lying on his bed, half propped up against the pillows, smoking a cigarette and absentmindedly running his fingers up Pansy's spine. Normally he objected to the kind of sappy undertones that lurked in a post-coitus embrace, but today, he felt it was a small sacrifice to get what he wanted.

He took another drag of his cigarette, enjoying the contrast of the rough, gritty smoke sliding down his trachea and the smooth, soft skin beneath his fingertips. Pansy was being uncharacteristically quiet, an event which he shrewdly suspected was to do with him shagging her into a coma for the last four hours. At this thought, he allowed a small, self satisfied smirk to slide across his face. He may be callous enough to not put a lot of effort into making sure she enjoyed herself, but knowing she was nearly catatonic with pleasure was a nice firm stroke to his ego.

Leaning over lazily he stubbed out his cigarette on the bedside table and tossed the butt somewhere in the vicinity of the room. Leaning down slightly, he ran an open palm along the smooth expanse of Pansy's back. She groaned desperately in response.

"No" She moved her head lethargically so blink sleepily at him through dilated pupils. "I _can't_, please…"

He chuckled amusedly and removed his hand, adjusting his position so that he was lying next to her on his side instead.

"Pansy?"

"hmmmm?"

His eyes glittered maliciously, but she couldn't see through her now closed eyelids, still not astute enough to hear the vicious leer in the smooth edge of his silky voice.

"D'you wanna know a secret?"

* * *

><p>"Bollocks!"<p>

The harsh curse slipped from Hermione's delicate mouth as she forgot she hadn't unpacked yet and apparated straight into a stack of boxes that stood in the middle of her kitchen. Wearily, she flicked her wrist to straighten the cartons that had fallen over and ran a critical eye over herself to check she hadn't left any minor body parts behind. Apparating across continents when one was wet, cold and flipping exhausted was not a meager task.

Shrugging out of her cloak and letting it fall to the floor in an uncharacteristic display of laziness, she stepped into the hall fully intending to go to bed and stay there for the next month.

Unfortunately, she was forced to groan in frustration and make her way to the sitting room instead as the silhouette of a man was illuminated by a flash of lightening through the glass wall running along the front of her flat.

"This better be good" She announced without ceremony as she stomped into the room and flung herself down on the couch, wringing water out of her hair.

He didn't turn around as he replied, his quiet voice emotionless and calm. "Is this display of unguarded vulnerability how all the war heroes greet uninvited, unknown guests?"

"If you weren't welcome here, you wouldn't have gotten past my wards alive."

He turned around at her response, surprise etching its way across his face. The calm absence of emotion in his voice was replaced by the graceful arch of an eyebrow. "I'm welcome?"

"No, Severus," She corrected him condescendingly. "You're invited, but not welcome. You've been inside my head, I figured it was best to grant you access to my house in case I needed to remove you from a situation fast, as my wards don't allow side along apparation."

"Does this invitation extend to Sirius Black? I believe he has been inside your mind as well." His black eyes glittered. "Or maybe he has an open invitation for another reason?"

Hermione scowled. "Stop making insinuations and tell me why you're here."

Her demand jolted him out of their banter and his face was once more dangerously blank. He slipped his hand inside his robes and withdrew a newspaper which he threw into her lap.

"I don't know if you've been reading the _Phrophet_ lately?" He asked as he turned once more to look out of the window.

"No, I've been in Russia for the past three weeks" She informed him absentmindedly as she uncurled her fingers from the handle of her wand inside her pocket and unfolded the paper. It didn't matter what someone had done to earn her trust, when they reach into a pocket, Hermione reaches for her wand.

The rustle of the paper was punctuated by her sharp gasp.

"Indeed." remarked Severus impassively.

The thick black ink of the headline screamed that she would not be sleeping tonight.

**War Hero presumed dead turns up alive and well. Miracle revival or dark secret?**

The picture below showed Severus exiting the bar that Hermione and Sirius had visited after his first "session". The date read three days ago and the article outlined several theories as to how and why he was still alive, ranging from dark magic to muggle cloning experiments.

"Surely no one believes this though?" Hermione's voice was slightly high pitched with panic and shock.

Severus chuckled humorlessly. "Keep reading Miss Granger."

Hermione's heart sank as she skimmed the words printed a few paragraphs down. "Kingsley confirmed it?"

"What else could he have done? After Fudge's meddling with the _Phrophet_ last year, he could hardly afford to lie in print. Especially if there was a possibility I would 'come out' in the future."

Now Hermione laughed derisively. "You'd be surprised about the lies he's told in print."

"Oh?"

"Don't even think about asking me to elaborate" She muttered, frowning at his peaked interest. "I'm assuming that the picture is fake?"

He nodded, his face indestructible.

"Why did you show me this anyway? I mean, obviously I'm going to find whoever wrote this and skin them, but I would have done that anyway. I'm a secret keeper, the ministry will have me investigate this when I go back to work on Monday, especially since no one should know you're alive except your students and co-workers."

Severus allowed a thin smile to snake across his mouth. "I thought you would want a head start over the weekend when you see who wrote the article." He turned and made his way across the room to the doorway. "I assume the only apparation point is the kitchen?"

She nodded confused, scanning the story for the writer's name in the dim light of her front room. As her eyes latched on to the letters she felt her face go white with anger and realisation, too furious to even note the crack of her visitor's dissaparation.

"Oh, I am going to _murder_ him."

* * *

><p>If ever there was a time when Hermione Granger was grateful she had mastered the art of silent apparition, that time was now. She appeared undetected in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, also grateful that she had removed the stupid portrait of Mrs Black as she crept past the place it had once hung. Her stiletto boots made no noise on the carpeted floor, the hinges of Sirius' bedroom door made no noise as she inched it open carefully and her body was equally as quiet as she eased her slender frame into the room.<p>

The noise that Sirius Black made as she lit the room with a particularly vicious _lumos_ however, was undignified and satisfyingly girly.

The noise he made when she then stalked over to his bed and whacked him with the rolled up newspaper was even more entertaining.

"Are." _thwack _"You." _thwack _"a." _thwack _"Bloody." _Thwack _"Idiot?" _thwack._

"Wha?" Sirius groggily tried to work out what the hell was going on and simultaneously restrain the vindictive owner of the newspaper he was being assaulted with. "Hermione?"

"Yes its me!" She snapped, momentarily postponing her mission to hit every inch of him and straightening up to glare at him instead. "And I ask again, What were you thinking?"

He stared at her for a minute, his expression unreadable, before he sat up and adjusted the hem of the sheet around his waist.

"Its three in the morning Hermione."

The flash in her amber eyes was the only warning that he had just sparked another tirade. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I was sitting around my flat in the middle of the night thinking, 'hmmm, what shall I do today? I know what, I'll sneak into the bedroom of someone I despise and scream at them?'"

The look of complete bewilderment on his face may have been childishly adorable if, at that moment, she didn't want to chop him into little pieces and feed him to Grawp.

"No Hermione, I don't think you did that." He ventured the response carefully, not sure if the pause in her rant was even for a response.

"NO! funnily enough, I didn't do that Sirius. Do you think I like coming home, wet and tired, only to find irate potions masters in my living room? Do I strike you as the type of person who would actually find joy in voluntarily holding a conversation with someone as loathsome as you?"

A rather curious expression flitted across Sirius' face at the mention of the potions master, the kind of expression that, had he been in dog form, may have required pricking his ears up.

A smug grin formed on his face as his eyes settled on the newspaper she had been using as a club. "Catching up on current affairs?"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief and rage as she raised her arm to hit him again.

He tutted and leaned forward to grasp her upper arms. "Don't do that again." He warned her irritably, before dragging her from her standing position, over his lap and plonking her on the other side of the bed next to him. Snatching the newspaper out of her hand and tapped her gently on the head with it. "Use your words Hermione" he reminded her patronisingly, flinging the paper away.

She glared at him, moving to swing her legs over the edge of the bed and get up. His fingers biting into her upper arm stopped her from moving an inch.

"I said, use your words." Sirius' tone was light but his eyes were dark. Dark enough to make her go limp and relax into the pillows enough to make him let go of her.

"You told Snape's secret."

His smirk confirmed her story but his only response was to reach over her for the packet of Marlborough reds and the lighter on his bedside table. The movement pressed them very close together, causing the wood of the headboard to dig into her shoulder blades through the soft cotton of his pillows whilst the hard muscle of his torso pressed into the side of her body. His silky hair tickled the side of her face and when she turned her head to the side in an attempt to reduce their contact, the shadow of his stubble scraped her cheek. His close proximity was so distracting, it took her a while to realise that the muscle pressed into body was vibrating.

The Bastard was laughing.

"It isn't funny!" She huffed at him, shoving his body out of her personal space.

"Oh come one," Sirius lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke in her face. "It's a little funny."

Waving a hand irritably to clear the smoke away, Hermione glared at him. "Did it ever occur to you that Snape kept his existence secret for a reason?"

Sirius inhaled and shrugged nonchalantly at the same time. "Yeah," He exhaled, this time away from her. "I just didn't really dwell on the thought." He grinned cheekily and flicked ash onto the carpet. "Ow!"

Hermione clambered off the bed and started to pace angrily. "And I suppose you also didn't think how this would affect Harry either? You know, revealing the fact that the death of the person he has felt the most guilty about never actually happened? Does he even know yet?"

"You _kicked _me!" Hermione ignored his plaintive rubbing of his shin and carried on pacing.

"OR that if anyone found out _where _Pansy got her information from, he may discover that you have been sleeping with yet _another_ one of his girlfriends?"

"There's a _bruise _ forming!"

"Focus on the real problem here!" Hermione stopped pacing to throw one of his boots that had previously been lying haphazardly on the floor at his head. "And there isn't a bruise forming!"

Sirius stopped examining his injured ankle to catch his shoe before it hit him in the face and then leaned over to stub his cigarette out on an ash tray. "First of all, yes there is." He held up a hand to silence her as she opened her mouth to retort. "and second of all, Pansy isn't going to tell anyone anything because I am pretty sure that _you_ have already ripped her into little pieces."

There was silence.

"How did you even know I was sleeping with her? That's a violation of privacy!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I know everything, and that is so not the point!"

Sirius tossed his footwear onto the floor. "Whatever, are we done yet? Blah blah, I did a bad thing, I'm sorry blah. Can I sleep now?"

"Your sincerity touches me." Hermione dead panned.

"I can touch you with something else if you want." Sirius leered at her.

Before she could verbally punch him or hex him into oblivion, they were interrupted by a loud _crack_ in the hallway outside Sirius' bedroom. Deaf to his protests about inviting unknown people into his bedroom, she stalked over to wrench his door open, coming face to face with a soaking wet and very drunk Harry Potter.

"Sirius!" Harry stumbled in past her and collapsed on the bed next to the irate pureblood. "You're 'wake!"

"Believe me, not out of choice." Sirius grumbled back, inching away from his godson in slight disgust.

Hermione shook her head, realising for the first time the bizarreness of the situation and formulating a plan to excuse herself before the awkwardness set in.

"'nd now, she'z gone… said she 'lways wanted to live in 'stralia.." Harry was slurring his words in Sirius' general direction, oblivious to his Godfather's annoyance.

"Since when did my bedroom become a general meeting hall?"

"Whose gone Harry?" Hermione asked kindly, sending a pointed look in Sirius' direction.

"'Mione!" Harry exclaimed brightly only just realising she was there. Then he frowned. "No, 'Mione hasn't gone, Pansy's gone… something 'bout kangaroos…"

Sirius, who had stiffened at the mention of Pansy, shot an incredulous look at Hermione. "Australia? Seriously? Is that like your _only_ solution for whenever someone needs taken care of?"

Hermione glared at him, the topic of her parents still a sore spot, and turned her attention to Harry who looked like he was about to commence weeping.

"I'm sure its for the best Harry." She offered the comfort with sincerity but not remorse. At this though, he merely dissolved into tears and carried on mumbling about Pansy's "Shiny hair".

Sirius looked vaguely repulsed, and leaned further away from his emotional Godson. "Look, I'm sure its very painful mate, but unless one of you, and by 'one of you' I mean not you Harry, is going to shag me, I suggest you both take your emotional baggage and your moral umbrage," he nodded at Hermione, "and let me go back to sleep!"

"And by that" Hermione continued smoothly, "He means that he would be happy to listen if you need to talk Harry."

Harry gave a loud sniff and looked at his Godfather from between his fingers. "Really?"

"yep" interjected Hermione before Sirius could put the filthy look he was giving her into words. "Think of it as though he, I don't know, _owes_ you or something." She smiled brightly at Sirius, ignoring his baleful glance, and turned to leave the room. "Buh-bye!"

"Why do they all leave the country?" Harry was howling as she shut the door firmly behind her. "Ginny, Pansy, what's so brilliant 'bout being 'broad?"

Hermione winced as she prepared to dissaparate. She firmly believed that she had been protecting her best friend, but sometimes she wondered if she should have let him find out the truth.

Appearing back in her kitchen, knocking over more boxes and feeling even more exhausted, she felt like she could quite cheerfully strangle Sirius Black at that moment.

It wasn't until she was climbing into bed that she realised she had forgotten to ask him why he had done what he did. As far as she could see, he didn't get anything out of exposing Snape's secret.

That's what made him dangerous she realised as she about to fall asleep. Sirius Black didn't need a reason to do anything malicious. He did things for short terms amusement, just for kicks. A child with a magnifying glass, burning ants for sport, taking pleasure in seeing them writhe.

The real danger though, was not knowing who he was going to turn the magnifying glass on next.

* * *

><p>Duh Duh Duh! Oh I have some truly diabolical ideas, I really shouldn't be allowed near people. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and that it was up to my usual standard. again, apologies for any overlooked spellinggrammar mistakes, I have a lazy proofreading eye and a vindictive computer.

Much love Dahlings!

Nixon. xx


	10. Serve my head up on a plate

Eugh. Real Life is getting in the way of my fictional existence. Sorry about that.

Okay, So I know that everything is a tad confusing at the moment, a lot of my reviews are questions such as "Who is Harry with?" "whats going on?" etc… Just to clarify, this amount of confusion is intentional. I'm an evil writer but I like keeping people in the dark. Insert evil laugh.

Anyway, hopefully the plot is going to be moving on a little faster now. Hope ths next bit is up to scratch, and thank you millions for all the reviews and subscriptions.

And thank you to all my lovely reviewers who have stayed with this story despite my sporadic updates. I want to sleep with you all.

* * *

><p>Standing at the edge of the lobby, eyes narrowed critically, Sirius paused before walking in the direction of the front desk. Despite having been reintegrated into society since his rescue from the hell-hole that was <em>vitae Lacus<em>, he still wasn't comfortable in large, crowded spaces. It also didn't help that every movement felt like a conscious effort to restrain himself from ripping apart the next person who looked sickeningly happy.

He hadn't always been like this he reflected as a random passerby beamed at him for no reason. He could remember when he had been one of the most carefree and cheerful person he knew. He could remember when smiling and laughing had been incontrollable expressions of joy, finding amusement and mischief in the simplest of pursuits. He could remember being willing to help friends with whatever they needed and never requiring anything in return. He could remember what it was like to have people whose company he enjoyed, who he could confide in and have inside jokes with.

Now, the presence of most people felt grating, like sandpaper being dragged across his skin. The world was a little less colourful, the sound of laughter made him cringe, the endless murmur of the world around him felt suffocating rather than liberating. The rage that encompassed his heart and coated his skin seemed to rule him rather than motivate him. His actions were now designed to hurt, his words intending to wound, repentance never making an appearance.

"_He's come back wrong, He's come back wrong, He's come ba-"_

Sometimes (although he'll never admit it), he repeats the phrase he wrenched from _her_ mind, that day that she realised how different (how wrong) he'd become.

To tell the truth though, he suspects (he knows) that he's been this way for a long time. His time in Azkaban had already broken him, just a little (just a lot), so all the subsequent time in the veil did was expose the cracks already there.

Instinct makes him hide this piece of himself from everyone (from himself) and pretend to be the same happy-go-lucky man-boy he was before the war.

Conscious thought makes him slip that tiny note of threat into the scarce words he speaks, sliding the words out slowly, caressing each syllable with the prolepsis of danger.

The curls of his face form a smirk that's too arrogant to be comfortable but the woman (the girl) behind the desk doesn't seem to care. She looks at him from underneath her eyelashes, pushing her chest out and smiling coyly. She isn't looking in his eyes, her gaze is raking over his body appreciatively, which is probably why she isn't cowed by the ice that slinks across his eyes.

Her tongue sweeps unnecessarily over her bottom lip before she speaks to him but he flicks his attention to her eyes instead. The pale lack of depth that he seems only reinforces his distaste for her. The emptiness he can see isn't from the careful disguise of her thoughts, this twenty-something woman isn't hiding, she's just barely lived, just a girl masquerading as an adult.

His lip curls, her coy expression falters and for a second, just for a second; he wants to shake the shallowness out of her.

He wants to force the connection that he craves with another human into her, cram knowledge and pain and sensation into the empty shell that is her head. He wants to try and create the companionship that sex replaces with this soulless template of a person. This fragile clay that he could mould into a person he could stand to be around.

And then she laughs nervously.

The hazy thought process fades, the possibilities he has been entertaining crumble and the derision in his face melts back into the smooth expression of neutrality.

He is careful to keep his voice light and expressionless as he lounges across the counter to put the girl at ease.

"Don't suppose you could point the way to Hermione Granger's office could you?"

* * *

><p><em>Dying for a coffee, must remember to stop by Flourish and Blotts on my way home, Mary said she wanted that book with the pink co- daughter, Rosy , aged ni- no, Shouldn't feel guilty, what they don't know ca-<em>

"So why do you think you are a good candidate for this role Mr Kazchinsky?" Hermione asked smoothly, narrowing her eyes and focusing her search.

_I'm going to end it soon, it's not like it means anything, besides It's not like I'm sleeping with anyone sh-_

"Thank you for coming in today Mr Kazchinsky." Hermione smiled to remove the sting of interrupting his explanation of his previous job. She reached out and shook his hand. "We have everything we need."

She shuffled the papers on the table in front of her and stood. The man across from her stood as well looking slightly nonplussed. She briefly shook hands with him before exiting, leaving him standing in the interview room with a rather lost expression on his face.

"He's having an affair." Hermione handed over the file to Kingsley as the door slid shut behind her. "That's the only thing of interest I found in there."

"but?" Kingsley prodded, hearing the subtext in her voice and thumbing through the file idly. "What's your recommendation?"

"Don't hire him." She answered immediately, elaborating when Kingsley quirked an eyebrow. "He has too much of a conscience which, not only makes him scream 'guilty', but also means that he may find some aspects of the job a little too indelicate."

"What else?"

Hermione's mouth twisted into a sardonic half-smile. "Who said there was anything else?"

"Well if he was just too vanilla for the job, your would advise I simply beat it out of him – What's holding you back?"

Hermione took the file he was holding out to her and paused for a minute. "He's screwing over the woman he loves." She pointed out coolly at last. "What makes you think he would think twice about doing the same to the company he works for?"

Kingsley chuckled as her words sunk in, turning to call after her retreating back. "You really don't trust anyone do you?"

"Nope. That's what you pay me for."

* * *

><p>Heels clicking on the stone floor of the corridor, Hermione made her way back down to her office, nodding hello and accepting files from people as they passed her.<p>

"Thank you Kate" Hermione nodded to her secretary and scanned the piece of parchment she had been handed.

"Also, Miss Lovegood stopped by, she wanted to know if you were free for drinks tonight?" Kate handed Hermione another stack of files and took the ones in her hand from her.

"Send her an owl saying yes – here hand me back that file…no the one on top, yeah that one – and can you notify the auror department that I need to see the senior staff by the end of the day?"

Hermione turned to enter her office but ground to a halt when she saw a head of spiky black hair sitting across from her desk through the glass door.

"KATE!"

Kate came hurrying back looking slightly terrified. "Yes Miss Granger?"

"Why is there a man in my office?"

"well..I - you said that Mr Potter could be let in whenever – "

"That's Harry?" Hermione interrupted looking relived.

"Well…yes, er, who else were you expecting?"

Hermione stared at her for a second. "No one." she said eventually. "Make sure the auror department know that I mean before _my _end of the day, not theirs."

Kate nodded and walked back to her own desk.

"Harry!" Hermione greeted him brightly with a one armed hug as she deposited the stack of parchment in her hand on her desk.

She's vaguely aware that he squeezes her a little harder than usual and the hard bulk of the muscles in his arms feel a little more threatening than comforting today. She situates herself in her chair behind her desk, gesturing for Harry to take a seat as well, choosing to file away the tangible undertone of darkness in their greeting away as a misunderstanding. His green eyes are looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something and she's suddenly afraid that maybe, the mind-reader is a step behind everyone else, that she's missed something vital.

She licks her lips. "How are you?"

She nearly winces at the dark look that flickers through his eyes and for just a second, she thinks that her childhood companion looks a lot like his godfather, the man she's desperately trying destroy.

"Hermione." He croons her name softly, as if he's comforting her, but his fingertips are digging too forcefully into his palms for their to be any sweetness to the syllables.

All too suddenly she realises where this is going and the crisis averter inside her attempts to shift the mood. She stands up suddenly.

"I know what you're going to say." She inhales deeply for a minute and runs her fingers shakily through her hair. "I can explain."

He tilts his head and looks at her through narrow eyes. The terrible feeling that she has underestimated him steals through her bones. She hasn't felt this unsure of herself since Hogwarts, not since being the top of the class was her only priority, not since she was trying desperately to keep herself together and save the world at the same time.

She swallowed.

"I did arrange for Pansy to leave-" Now she does wince. "-permanently. But I only did because she was using you. All she wanted was a by-line, she didn't want _you_."

"Snape."

"Yeah." She was slightly disturbed to see not a flicker of emotion on her best friend's face.

"But she didn't get that from me." Harry pointed out calmly. "So if all she wanted was a by-line, I clearly wasn't being useful enou-"

"She was cheating on you as well." Hermione interrupted him with the childish enthusiasm of a student who knew the right answer. "She was sleeping with someone else, that's how she got the tip. I know you cared about her and I figured it would be best if-"

"I don't care about her." Harry stated it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"I can't even remember her last name."

"Wha-?" The temptation to slide her mind across the side of his head and find out what he was thinking was growing stronger by the second.

"She mentioned it once. Didn't stick."

"So what were you doing with her?"

"Just hanging. No big deal." Harry stood as well, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and staring back at her levelly.

"So, you aren't pissed that I extradited your girlfriend?" Hermione asked stupidly.

Harry shook his head and smiled crookedly at her. The breath left her lungs in a sharp sigh of relief. She glanced down and straightened some papers on her desk. When she looked up however, Harry had planted his hands on her desk and was leaning forward slightly looking more menacing than she had ever seen him.

"What I am, is pissed you extradited my _fiancé_, pissed you carry on keeping secrets from us all, pissed you won't just break up with Ron because it will ruin _your_ image, and pissed that you don't feel the need to explain why you were in my _Godfather's_ _bedroom_ at 3:00am last night." She flinches as he finished spitting the words at her, suddenly feeling very small and kicking herself mentally for thinking that she could do all of this on her own.

She opens her mouth to apologise or maybe excuse herself but he rocks his weight back on his heels and holds up a hand to silence the words that are halfway out of her throat.

"You're playing God with our lives Hermione." There's a clear warning in his tone. "You'd better sort it out."

He turns and leaves without giving her a second glance, like she's nothing,

The hand she brings up to touch her forehead is shaking. Before she can fully collect herself there's a slight movement from the corner of her office and the door swings shut again as a new person enters.

She glances up from underneath her fingers to see the one person that could take this volatile situation and blow it all to hell.

He's giving her that look again, the one where his eyes follow every curve of her body, the one that's riddled with longing and salaciousness. The one that's behind every taunt, every insult, every insinuation he's ever made to her. The one that always catches her these days, the one that she can feel in the pricking on the back of her neck and the shiver down her spine.

Suddenly, she's angry. She angry and she's tired and she just so damn _frustrated._

She's furious that everywhere she turns there's someone to ridicule or negate or condemn her for actions that she does ultimately do with good intentions. She's so full of rage that her life is full of _men_ that treat her like she's something to capitalise on.

Ask not what you can do for Hermione. Ask what Hermione can do for you.

Before she realises that she's been slowly walking closer to Sirius and that his attempts to get her attention have failed to penetrate the thick, muggy feeling surrounding her, she's already curled her fingers around his collar.

His back hits the door of her office and she takes a split second to relish the look of shock on his face before she stands on tiptoes and kisses him.

She knows that there really isn't any logic to kissing a man because you're angry at their entire species. But really, there is. You see, this isn't a kiss for him, this isn't a kiss that's mutually pleasurable. The only person who gains anything from this kiss is her.

At the first press of her lips, she abandons any pretence of sweetness and savagely bites down on his lower lip. The tang of blood hits her tongue at the same time that his fingers twist deep into her hair and tug viciously. He twists her head round and opens his mouth to deepen the angle. It's a slow kiss, her tongue drags along the side of his painfully languidly, but its forceful and her nails are leaving crescent shaped marks in the skin above the collar of his shirt.

She also knows that she's noticing these specific details because she doesn't want to think about the fact that really, this kiss is amazing. Its her anger and his bitterness and both their panic, but as Sirius sucks violently on her tongue, she can't help but acknowledge the tingling down her spine. She just can't ignore the spirals of goodness that irradiate from the hand splayed across the small of her back.

Suddenly, she pushes him away, dragging a hand across her mouth, partly to remove any trace of his saliva and partly to disguise the fact that she's panting.

"What was that?" His words fall sharply across her ears as she turns away, forcing his hands to reluctantly drop her, and rapidly puts her desk between them.

She knows he won't leave until he gets an answer so she tries to word one that won't sound desperate.

He's moved away from the wall now and is standing the other side of her desk with his arms folded, the muscles of his biceps tense underneath the leather of his jacket. His eyes are dark and half aroused, his hair looks like she ran her fingers through it. Maybe she did. She doesn't really remember.

He has a smudge of her lipstick very subtly in the corner of his mouth and to her surprise, it doesn't actually look silly. She admits with a stab of anger, that she rather likes leaving a mark on him. She'd rather like to leave some more.

"Hermione?" His voice is reaching the silky tone that normally precedes some sort of manhandling. "What _was_ that?"

"It was…" She bites her lip and gazes at him, her mind snapping back to the feels that motivated her to go after one of the best kisses of her life.

Suddenly, she starts to laugh. She starts to laugh _hard. _Sirius looks nonplussed as her raucous giggles get progressively more uncontrollable.

"That was a 'Screw you' to the patriarchy." She chokes the words out around the manic hilarity gushing from her mouth, struggling to stay upright as her belly starts to ache from her mirth.

She laughs.

Because if she doesn't laugh, she'll cry.

* * *

><p>Brownie points if you can spot the Gilmore Girls reference.<p>

As always, thank you for reading.

Nix. x


	11. You call me a bitch like its a bad thing

I know I know! Sorry it took so long, it was a bitch to write. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>She knows that she is being watched. The eyes that are focused upon her are burning the skin of her back underneath her dress to the point that, if she looked at the smooth skin between her shoulder blades in a mirror, she'd see his name carved there. She wants to turn around and catch him in the act, to look him in the eye and raise a glass to the fury that is most likely simmering behind his dilated pupils. His dilated pupils that betray an arousal only she can incite from him. Of course, she isn't going to turn around, because turning around would mean acknowledging the fact that all the while she's been talking to Luna, she's been aware of him sitting on the other side of the bar.<p>

It would mean acknowledging their new game. The one where he watched her and she pretended not to notice. The one where he feared her and she pretended not to relish it.

"And then I kissed him!" She choked out a hysterical laugh and slammed her head down on the counter top, the steady thrum of alcohol and adrenaline through her veins stopping her from feeling any pain.

Lune looked vaguely amused, her vacant eyes bright with humour, slender fingers drawing circles on the tabletop next to her untouched drink. "Why did you do that Hermione?"

It strikes Hermione that their conversation thus far has seemed a bit like a therapy session. She's been telling Luna things about her life recently and Luna has responded with questions, completely ignoring any return questions that Hermione has thrown her way. It is this realisation that sobers her up fast and she sits up quickly, suddenly no longer feeling as drunk as she did ten minutes ago.

The look she gives Luna is sharp, the Hermione that trusts no one and questions everything breaking effortlessly through the four glasses of Firewhiskey she's consumed. _'how do you feel about that Hermione? Why did you do that Hermione? What's in it for you Hermione?'_ All the questions Luna's been asking her suddenly fill her with a hard feeling of resentment.

"Does there have to be a reason?" Her counter question comes out cold and she knows that Luna has felt the shift in atmosphere by the way her silver eyes become less cloudy.

"There always is with you."

A shiver runs down her spine, the cool shock momentarily quelling the hot, slow ache of Sirius' gaze. The two women stare at each other levelly for a few seconds, a potential war churning up the air between them.

"If I didn't know better, I would say I've done something to upset you." Hermione voices it carefully, her tone remaining neutral, the accusation up for interpretation. Luna's eyes flicker to something over Hermione's shoulder and the oxygen leaves her lungs in realisation.

"He's been watching you since we walked in." Luna says offhandedly, as though its an observation anyone would make. "But you already know that, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?" The whispered question isn't just a play for time, Hermione genuinely doesn't understand why Sirius Black watching her would be enough to make the blonde girl's eyes harden in rage.

As if she had read her mind, Luna reaches out and wraps her fingers around Hermione's wrist. Instinctively, her right hand curls around her wand, resting in the holster on her thigh but all Luna does is yank her arm across the table.

"You've had goose bumps all night Hermione." Luna hisses the words as her grip becomes painfully tight. "Don't pretend like you have no idea who I'm talking about."

Hermione swallows the lump in her throat and rephrases the question. "Okay, why do you care?"

Luna smiles and releases her, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied look on her face. "You really do have no idea what's going on, do you?"

She stares at her, nonplussed as Luna stands and puts her cloak on.

"You're in over your head Hermione." She says in farewell. "I'd think twice before you fuck with another person's life."

Luna walks away and Hermione lowers her shaking gaze to the wooden table top in an effort to collect her shattered thoughts. She doesn't need to look up to see who has taken Luna's place.

"What do you want?" She grits out words from behind her teeth, eyes closing behind her hand.

She can feel his smirk boring into the side of her head and a rather large part of her wants to smack it off his face. The thought brings back a memory of the first time she smacked a smirk of a boy's face and the good memory calms her down a little.

He still hasn't said anything so she chances a look at him, knowing she's going to regret it afterwards. He's reclining as much as possible in the hard backed chair, one leg stretched underneath the table so that his shin is press against the back of her leg and the other bent, foot flat on the floor. His hands aren't propping up his face for once, they're relaxed on the arms of the chair, his eyes alight with mischief and staring at her steadily.

The game no longer feels as fun as it did ten minutes ago. It isn't a game of cat and mouse, the kind where she contemplates letting him charm his way into her bed and she pretends like she doesn't care. This new game feels heavy with unanswered questions, like he knows something she doesn't and she's struggling to keep up.

"What's going on?" She speaks quietly and without looking at him, her eyes are guarded, her hands folded on the table top. She's not on the offensive, she's retreated to guarding herself, protecting instead of demanding.

Sirius smiles even more widely and suddenly leans over to her, winding his hand into her hair behind her head, closing his fist tight. The grip he has on the silky strands doesn't hurt but it forces her to look up at him. His other hand cups her chin and squeezes, not to hurt, but to demonstrate the power behind his grip, the kind of power that she always underestimates.

"You're in over your head, little girl."

She fights the urge to break from his gasp in fear, forces herself to stay calm, even as the gap between their faces narrows. He leans in and flicks the tip of his tongue against the very corner of her mouth, exhaling against her lips. She waits for him to pull back, acting as if he is doing nothing out of the ordinary.

Completely ignoring the arousal that flared up in her belly at the feel of the wet drag of his tongue, she retorts with an easy arrogance that does nothing to belay the uneasy tension in the air.

"Of course I'm not, I'm Hermione Granger."

He laughs loudly, a bark that reminds her of his canine counterpart and sits back abruptly. The sigh of relief that leaves her when his hands release her head is short lived as his hand catches her wrist on his way back into his seat. He seems content to simply sit there and trace circles into her wrist instead of elaborating on the infuriating mind games that appeared to be going on around her.

"Would you like to tell me what the fuck is going on?" The harsh profanity surprises even her but Sirius merely smirks against the flushed skin of her wrist.

"Come home with me." He presses his lips against her throbbing pulse as soon as the last murmured syllable leaves his mouth.

"I live with you." Hermione tugs her wrist back and folds her arms again. "Of course I'll be coming home with you. Now tell me what is going on."

He smiles easily at her, his comfortable gaze not leaving her face, seemingly content to simply watch her rage build. Hermione has had enough.

"Maybe I'll slip inside your head whilst you're asleep." She hisses, leaning across the table to invade his personal space this time. His grin only widens.

"Come home with me."

"Stop saying that!" Her hand meets the table with a bang, disliking the feeling of not being able to decipher a riddle in front of her.

"Miss Granger." The curt words that interrupt their one sided spat sound sharp with disappointment.

Hermione meets Severus' icy gaze suddenly feeling incredibly foolish.

"Professor." She has to work very hard not to stammer in complete confusion. "What are you doing here?"

The potions master ignores her completely, turning his attention instead to Sirius who looks incredibly tense. The two seem to be having a silent conversation, one that she isn't privy to, one that she can't possibly hope to understand without help.

"I think I'll stay." Sirius leans back against his chair, one hand coming up to cradle his face, eyes not moving from staring at Snape who takes a seat opposite him, next to Hermione. It occurs to her that they were having some kind of argument inside one of their heads but she can't be bothered to attempt legilimency to find out.

"I don't care what either of you do, just as long as someone tells me what is going on!"

"Now now Kitten, don't get angry, I would hate for you to-" Hermione flicks her fingers and Sirius is cut off mid sentence due to the fact that his jaw is suddenly glued shut. Severus looks amused at Sirius' outraged expression but he wipes his expression clean when Hermione turns her attention on him.

"You'd better not be thinking of using that spell on me Miss Granger."

She ignores the threat in his voice. "Why are you here?"

Snape looks at her levelly for a second. "Mr Potter came to see me today."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "How dare he do something so heinous." Sirius snorts at her sarcasm, unable to say anything around her spell. Snape ignores them both.

"He wants lessons on occlumency."

"What?" Hermione is aware that beside her, Sirius has gone very still and avoids her gaze when she turns to look at him. "Sirius? Do you know something about this?"

He shrugs, not attempting to speak.

"In fact, I've had the pleasure of receiving all of your friends with similar requests." Snape continues speaking. "After the first two, I noticed a pattern and suggested that they see you instead."

"What did they say?" Hermione swallows thickly around the rising sense of dread.

"They made various excuses." Snape sniffed disdainfully. "Eventually Mr Weasley cracked. He said that asking you to teach them occlumency would be counter-productive to their intent."

"What does that even mean?!"

"It means, Miss Granger," Snape spoke uncharacteristically patiently. "that your friends are planning something against you."

Hermione twisted her wrist and Sirius' mouth unglued itself. "What is going on?" She demanded before he had a chance to complain.

He narrowed his eyes at her spitefully. "What makes you think I know anything?"

Another flick of her wrist and his right shoulder slipped out of its socket smoothly. Beside her, Snape flinched slightly at Sirius' quickly stifled howl of pain.

Ignoring the aghast gaze that was now digging into her skull from Snape, Hermione leaned over to Sirius in order to make sure he heard every hissed word over his own pained gasps. "They are planning something, and I want to know what it is. Now you have made it your own personal mission to torture me for past month so I know that there is no way they have hatched a plan without your help. Tell me what is going on or so help me, I will dig the information out of your skull with my fingernails!"

Sirius stared up at her with hate filled eyes, his head bowed from where he had curved his body around his injured shoulder. "And you wonder why your own friends are afraid of you."

"They aren't afraid of me."

He laughed through gritted teeth. "Of course they are. All of this? This is just an elaborate plot to bring you down."

Severus put a restraining hand on her arm as all the bones in Sirius' hand turned to powder.

"What plot? How far does this go?"

Sirius raised his head slightly to look her in the eyes, pain and hatred clouding his dark irises. "Why don't you take a look Princess?"

* * *

><p><em>Two months ago.<em>

"_Harry Potter, would you please stop trying to kill your Godfather for two minutes!"_

_Harry looked up from where he and Sirius were entangled on the floor, not making a move to unwrap his fingers from around the other man's throat. "He slept with my fiancé! And your daughter! Shouldn't you be helping me get rid of the body?!"_

_Mrs Weasley sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes I know that, but I also know that it takes two to tango."_

_Harry glared at his godfather. "So he just gets away with it?"_

"_If I may-"_

"_No you may not." Luna's voice was surprisingly clear, the clarity shocking Sirius into silence and causing Harry to loosen his grip slightly. "I think we are missing the bigger picture here."_

"_Which is what exactly?" Mrs Weasley looked unhappy at being upstaged as the level headed one._

"_That Hermione has once again interfered with our lives and I'm not convinced she did it using legal methods."_

_Silence greeted her latest theory._

"_That's absurd."_

"_Don't be ridiculous Luna."_

"_I don't see why that means I shouldn't kill him."_

"_Shut up." Luna snapped over the medley of voices. "Look, just last week she used that weirdo spell to make that reporter forget about all that stuff he found out about my Father betraying you guys. And then there's that thing about how none of us can remember what she was doing for that gap year she took before she started working at the ministry. __**And**__ she manages to convince people to leave the country whenever they wrong any of us."_

"_Yeah, but Luna," Ron spoke slowly as if addressing a two year old. "All that stuff was to help us. And we don't have proof that she tampered with our memories."_

"_She's still meddling with our lives without asking!" Luna fired back. "And you have to admit that some of it could be with dark magic."_

"_So, what are you saying?" Harry released Sirius and stood up. "That she's looking inside our heads and fixing our lives with illegal spells?"_

"_yep."_

_Sirius snorted. "I don't think she has the imagination, or the balls, to do anything that interesting Lovegood."_

_Luna glared at him. "Okay then, how did she find out about you and Ginny? I'm assuming you didn't tell her."_

"_No, she overheard us ending it." _

"_When?"_

"_Last Friday, just after lunch." Sirius nervously shifted away from his Godson who had clenched his fists angrily._

"_See, there's the problem Sirius." Luna smiled triumphantly. "Hermione was with me all day last Friday. We didn't get back here until just before dinner."_

_Sirius stared at her. "So, what, you think that she looked inside my head without me realising?"_

"_Are you telling me that she's never looked you in the eye for a long time? That you've never had a sudden headache after being in the same room as her for a long time?"_

_Sirius looked away and everyone else in the room suddenly looked a little uncomfortable._

"_I'm right aren't I?" Luna looked gleeful. "You've all experienced a similar thing, and then later, Hermione pops up knowing something about you that you've never told her."_

"_What are you suggesting we do?" It was Neville that spoke up this time. "We can't just confront her without evidence."_

"_Then we set a trap." Luna sounded like she had been thinking about this for a while. "One of us think about doing something horrible, and then we see if she a) finds out and b) does anything about it."_

"_That's your brilliant plan?" Sirius asked scathingly. "To think bad thoughts and not only let the cleverest witch of your generation take a peak, but also hope that she doesn't see this conversation at the same time, and then monologues her evil plan to subdue us?"_

_Luna shrugged. "She'd never suspect." _

"_Yeah, because it's stupid."_

"_Who did you have in mind?" Harry ignored the incredulous look his godfather was giving him and focused his attention on Luna._

"_Well, I was actually hoping Sirius could do it."_

"_yeah, dream on blondie." Sirius folded his arms looking bored._

"_Think of it as payback for her outing you to Harry!" Luna snapped back at him. "Besides, you're the one with the most secrets, and everyone knows that the veil/prison thing screwed you up a bit."_

_Sirius clenched his jaw but his angry retort was interrupted by Ron. "So, you're asking us to lie to our friend, my girlfriend, because you have a hunch that she's using dark magic to invade our privacy?"_

"_Ron," Luna sounded gentle all of a sudden. "We all know you're gay." Ron flushed an ugly colour._

"_What are talk-"_

"_And you can bet Hermione knows too." Luna carried on, despite the confused atmosphere. "So why hasn't she broken up with you? What is she planning?"_

_There was silence that followed this revelation. _

"_Okay, I'll do it." Sirius said at last. "But only if you people stop harping on about the fact that I'm a terrible person."_

_There were mutters of agreement from everyone in the room. _

"_Right." There was a gleam in Luna's eye. "This is what I suggest you do-"_

* * *

><p>Sirius yelped as Hermione withdrew from his mind too quickly. She stared at him in horror, the weight of the last few weeks finally settling.<p>

"You tricked me."

Sirius chuckled low in his throat. "All this time, you thought that I was the big bad, the one posing the threat to the world. Wrong again Princess. It's always been you. All that stuff about what you saw in my head, the lengths you went to to provide me with my own personal brothel, it was all for nothing. All subterfuge to see if you were manipulating us. And you never suspected, so caught up in the game, in your own intelligence, you never stopped to wonder if it was all real."

Hermione sat back, blood draining from her face. "So what now? Your plan worked, but what are you going to do about it?"

Sirius frowned. "We haven't got that far." He admitted.

Hermione scoffed, screwing her face up in disgust. Her fingers curled around the air and Sirius' boned slid back into place. "Get out."

Surprisingly, he didn't argue, he simply nodded at Snape before standing up and leaving. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed in despair at her own stupidity. Sighing, she opened her eyes and turned to Snape, only to find herself staring down a wand pointed directly between her eyes.

"Now Miss Granger." Snape was breathing shallowly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Wherever did you learn a spell like that?"

* * *

><p>Uhoh, Hermione appears to have shot herself in the foot. Too much dark magic will do that to a person.<p>

What do think? Are the threads coming together? More loose ends to come. And the obligatory rough sex scene of course.

Who suspected? Come one, tell me how transparent my plot lines are.

Nixon.


	12. Don't make a sound 'till I come undone

Warning! Smut ahead! Hope it doesn't offend, but if you're anything like me, you're now clapping your hands gleefully. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Hermione rolled her eyes irritably. "Yes, okay, I used bad magic when I shouldn't have done, I'm very sorry and won't do it again." She sighed exasperatedly, eyeing his still raised wand with a quirked eyebrow. "Unless you're planning to use that, I suggest you remove it from my face."<p>

Severus frowned at her. "I find your rather blasé attitude towards the magic you just used slightly disturbing Miss Granger."

Hermione fidgeted in her seat, removing her hand from her own wand and twining her fingers together as the man beside her reluctantly stowed his wand inside his robes. "I'm sure the full horror will hit me eventually, right now I'm concentrating on the bigger picture."

"Well I must say black magic becomes you." Severus conceded with a slight smile, noting her dilated pupils and flushed skin. "I would hate to see you make it a habit though."

"Don't worry, I'm still the poster girl for following the rules." Hermione waved a hand absent-mindedly.

Severus leaned back, his face slipping back into an expressionless mask. "What do you intend to do about your situation?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your friends are clearly planning some sort of coup. I have no doubt that their actions will escalate when Black tells them of your actions this evening." His face twisted in distaste. "He never was good at keeping his mouth shut."

Hermione glanced up from where she was staring thoughtfully at the table top. Her finger tips met in a pyramid which she tapped against her lips contemplatively. "Unless I'm very much mistaken," She murmured, "He won't be able to tell anyone."

At Severus' confused look she elaborated. "You see, he signed a magical contract that binds him to the protection of residents of certain households. I believe I come under that protection."

Severus snorted incredulously. "Have you gone quite soft Miss Granger?" Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at the insult but he carried on regardless. "Maybe I should remind you that you reside in your own flat, a residence that isn't covered under the contract he signed, I'm pretty sure the contract only covered physical harm and it's debatable whether it's even relevant now that the contract stands to fulfil a need that wasn't necessary to begin with!"

"Take a hold of yourself Professor, a raised voice does not become you." Hermione snapped coldly. "And if you must know, that contract was designed with a situation like this in mind."

She leaned forward, holding out her hand palm up as a piece of paper materialised in her fingers. "_…to not harm or provoke another resident of Grimmauld place, the Burrow, Spinners end or Godric's hollow, mentally, physically or emotionally." _She read aloud the snippet of the sentence and looked at Severus meaningfully. "I believe that Sirius disclosing the events of tonight would cause me both distress and shame, two emotions which are covered under mental and emotional harm. My interpretation will thus not allow him to speak of what occurred here."

"Yes, but you don't live at-"

"Actually," Hermione cut him off, clicking her fingers as the parchment disappeared. "I'm a co-owner of Grimmauld place and I've been staying there in the library lately to get some reading in before and after work. According to magical law, I am technically a resident."

Severus eyed her warily. "I don't know if your genius scares me or impresses me Hermione."

She ignored the use of her first name and stood up, fastening her cloak around her neck as she prepared to dissaparate. "It is probably best not to think about it Severus. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an irate ex-convict to appease."

He inclined his head in farewell, eyes troubled as he watched her exit the bar to find a dissaparation point. There was no doubt about it, Hermione Granger was on a very slippery slope. One that he knew intimately from his days of being seduced by the dark arts, one that would inevitably destroy her. The only question was whether she would drag others down with her.

* * *

><p>A crack echoed through the hallways of Grimmauld place as Hermione materialised just inside the front door. Before she could right herself and get her bearings however, someone seized her arm in a painfully tight grip and slammed her back against the wall. Fingers scraped up the inside of her leg, under her dress, to drag her wand from its holster and fling it away from her with a clack onto the wooden floor. Hermione looked up and found herself staring into the murky eyes of Sirius Black.<p>

"You know, I don't need to be holding my wand to-"

His hand clamped over her mouth roughly, stopping any further words from escaping. He was breathing hard, his chest brushing hers every time he sucked air into his lungs, his tobacco scented breath falling onto the side of her neck. He looked furious, struggling to contain himself, eyes black and fingers tightening marginally by the second wherever he was touching her. The silver rings he wore on his right hand her beginning to cut into the skin of her lip, the metallic taste of blood hitting her tongue. Hermione fought down a rising sense of panic, resisting her urge to struggle out of his grip, her mind too messy to use any wandless magic. She settled for forcing her muscles to relax, fortifying her mental shields, meeting his gaze calmly and trying not to betray her fear.

"The funniest thing just happened, Kitten." His voice was gravelly and rough, as though he had spent the last ten minutes screaming in frustration. "I ran into Luna outside the bar. I was going to tell her you see, tell her how you somehow managed to grind my bones into nothing without even touching me, but the words simply wouldn't come."

His fingers tightened further around her arm and she whimpered slightly, eyes automatically going to the direction in which he had flung her wand. He let go of her mouth to turn her chin to face him. "No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't say a word, why is that? Hmmm?"

"It's the contract." Hermione struggle slightly against his grip, but he didn't let her move an inch. "It stops you from saying anything that could harm my reputation."

He growled in rage and curled his fingers around her neck, although she wasn't entirely sure he realised he was doing it. "Are you saying, that you could rip me apart several times over, and I wouldn't be able to tell _anyone_?!"

She didn't say anything, wincing when he gritted his teeth and used his grip on her neck to drag her higher up the wall. "To be fair, you signed it." She gasped out eventually, "You knew what you were getting yourself into."

He frowned at her for a minute, his face losing the insane expression and become more gentle, eyes sparkling in delight. Her heart rate sped up, pulse thundering in her ears. "Then answer me this Princess," Her murmured the words in her ear, hand letting go of her neck to stroke her cheek. "Is this making you feel uncomfortable?"

Hermione teetered on the brink of an answer, unsure what he was getting at. "I.. yes." She admitted at last, "You're hurting me."

"Hmm." He looked thoughtful for a minute, eyes flashing in warning that something bad was about to happen. "What about if I were to do… say… this?"

Suddenly, his grip on her face turned savage as he lifted her higher with the grip on her arm, letting go of her cheek with his other hand to press his forearm against her throat.

Panic rising in earnest now, Hermione struggled against the pressure. "Sirius!" Her hands curled into his shirt, trying to push him away. "I can't breathe!"

He laughed, low and hot in her ear, easing the pressure off her windpipe slightly, just enough for her to breathe shallowly, but still present enough to remind her that it would take very little on his part to cut off her air supply again. "If my onset of muteness is just the brilliant workings of your magical contract, then how come I can physically hurt you?"

His voice was menacing, and if she wasn't so scared, she might have laughed about how he didn't think to question why the contract protected her to begin with.

"I don't know." She spat the answer through gritted teeth, arching her neck to try and get more air into her lungs. "Maybe you don't intend to actually kill me."

He laughed darkly and pressed his arm into her neck more forcefully. "I wouldn't count on it Darling. But let's try an experiment shall we?"

She eyed him nervously, his hand leaving her arm so she was suspended on the wall by his hips pressed against her pelvis and his arm across her throat alone. She could feel the thrum of blood under her skin, magic dancing across her nerves in an excess of adrenaline fuelled energy. His hand went behind his back to delve into his back pocket and she saw the end of his wand in his hand as he brought it around to the front.

His eyes glittered maliciously as he pressed the point under her jaw, the wood digging into her skin. He opened his mouth to say an incantation, no doubt wanting her to hear what kind of magic she would be subject to. Before he could form the words however, there was a loud bang, like a slammed door and his wand flicked out of his hand and clattered to the floor behind him.

"What the-" In his shock, his grip on her eased and she was able to aim a kick at his shins before shoving past him and diving for her wand. Once again, she underestimated his reflexes as he smartly kicked her feet out from under her and pinned her to floor with an arm once again pressed against her neck.

Despite her precarious position, she laughed in his face. "That was my 'brilliant contract' acting as it was designed to." She mocked his previous words delightedly. "I think the best thing you can do is let me up and resign yourself to a life of silence."

She smirked under his wrathful gaze, but the quirk of her lips faltered slightly as his eyes once again grew wicked.

"See, here's the thing that gives me hope." He sat up slightly to rearrange his body, straddling her pelvis confidently, boxing her in by laying his palms flat on the floor either side of her head. "Your magical protection fuckery didn't kick in until I pulled a wand on you." He leaned back, skimming his hands down her sides and then back up her arms to pin her wrists either side of her head. The drag of his skin against hers sent shivers down her spine. "So, why is it, you don't find this position… _threatening?_"

She said nothing, choosing instead to focus on a spot on the ceiling behind his ear. "D'you wanna know what I think?" He asked her triumphantly. "I think, you _like it."_ He leaned down to whisper the last two words in her ear, breath ghosting down her neck.

He smirked as he leaned back again, shifting so that he now sat on her knees, gripping her wrists over her head with one hand instead of two.

"Come now Hermione." He purred as he leaned down to bury his face in her neck, his now free hand slipping up her dress and along her thigh. "All you have to do is say no," He taunted, "just decide you don't want this and I'll be blasted off you faster than you can say 'Oh yes, please, more." He chuckled at his own joke, seemingly enjoying her expression of paralysed confusion.

In the next second, his gleeful expression was wiped off his face for one of stupid confusion as his fingers found their way across the front of her soaked through underwear.

She swallowed as he reared back to look at her in utter shock. "I was kidding, but, you _do_ don't you? You like this…"

There was a moment of brief silence before she dragged her eyes up to look at him. "Get off me." She demanded quietly.

Very slowly, a smug smirk curled across his face. "Make me." He challenged.

Her head slammed back down on the wooden floor in defeat, her eyes squeezed shut. No matter how much she wanted to dislike her current position, she just couldn't bring herself to want him off her, she couldn't even bring herself to summon her wand which was easily close enough to do wandless magic. The truth was, the rough scrape of his jeans against the bare skin of her legs, the smooth grip of his fingers and the hot press of his weight against her were making her feel more alive than she had for a long time.

With a job like hers, she had gotten used to ignoring the demands of her body, to switching off her more baser instincts. When you trust no one and spend your days trying to find out people's secrets, its always better to ignore physical attractions, so when her attraction to Sirius was put on display so suddenly, it was almost impossible to ignore.

Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and silently raised her hips off the floor, increasing the pressure of his fingers at the apex of her thighs. If he was surprised by her sudden brazen motion, he didn't let her know it. Instead, he let his lips curl into a gleeful smirk, seconds before his mouth slid onto hers.

Its different to their earlier kiss. The one that she instigated was painful and slow, more of a fight than a caress. This one is fast, his lips move against wetly with a ferocity that thrills her, his tongue sliding into her mouth with the deliberate intention of touching every inch of her. He broke the kiss just as quickly as he had initiated it, dragging his tongue down her neck to kiss along the top of her breasts.

She gasped, tearing her hands free of his grasp and burying her fingers in the silky black of his hair. Both his hands went to her thighs, hiking up her skirt and tearing the bands of knickers at the sides to rip the material away from her.

Deep down, she knew that this was going to be quick, he wasn't going to give her time to talk in fear that she may change her mind. So caught up in a torrent of lust, she didn't have it in her to change her mind, not when every nerve in her body felt deliciously sensitive.

Whilst she had been musing, he slid his knees apart, which in turn prised her own legs open. The hand that had previously been pinning her arms above her head now rested on the floor beside her head, whilst the other traced circles into her thigh.

"Sirius…" Hermione licked her lips desperately, dragging one of her hands from his hair, sliding down the front of his body, feeling the hard press of his muscles beneath the material of his shirt. Before she could articulate her thoughts however, Sirius slid two fingers neatly inside her body, causing her to arch her back and groan into the dark. Her fingers stopped on their journey down and curled into his belt loop, other hand fisting none too gently into his hair.

He groaned and disconnected his lips from her cleavage to drag his head up and look her in the eyes. "Hermione." He whispered her name roughly, the syllables stroking along her skin. "Do you trust me?"

She was finding it hard to function, hard to comprehend the question, the way his knees had forced her legs even further apart and his thumb had found her clit was incredibly distracting.

Her mouth fell open, but whether it was to give him an answer or just to release some of the pleasure currently wracking her body, she didn't know. He seemed to give up on wanting an answer and began to move his fingers in a tandem, working them in and out of her slick body as his thumb worked tight circles into her clit. Her breathing grew louder, her hips tried to arch off the floor but his body weight prevented her from moving an inch, she had no release for the toe curling pleasure that was rising faster than she would like.

Suddenly, she felt his forearm once again press against her wind-pipe. She froze in shock, the panic pushing the pleasure aside for a second. "Trust me." Sirius noticed her distress and leaned down to peck her on the mouth. "You will like this."

Comforted by the knowledge that she still had the magical wards on her side and the fact that he hadn't actually put any pressure on her yet, she rolled her hips to let him know he could continue.

He smiled slightly and began to move his hand again, his body still stubbornly pinning hers to the floor. With her legs spread as far apart as they would go, her arousal allowing his fingers to slip easily in and out of her, Hermione could feel her orgasm approaching fast. She tried to resist the onslaught of sensation but his clever fingers were giving her nowhere to go except headlong into a thunderous climax. Twisting her upper body as best she could, she gasped and writhed against the polished wood of the floor, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her eyes open, but unseeing, she was vaguely aware that she gasped his name frantically as she touched the brink of her climax, his arm simultaneously pressing down on her throat and cutting off her air supply completely.

A cracked cry left her throat as the lack of oxygen prolonged her orgasm, tears springing into her eyes as white hot pleasure exploded all over her body, her fingers grasping at whatever bit of him she could reach.

As she came down slowly, she was gradually aware that his arm had been removed from her neck, and was instead gently stroking her hair. Blinking away tears, the lights behind her eyelids danced away in time for her to catch Sirius slide his fingers out of his mouth from where he had been licking them clean.

"Are you alright?" His voice was surprisingly tender, his fingers slipping from her hair to stroke the side of her face instead.

She inhaled deeply and licked her lips, aware that his eyes followed the movement. "Yes, I'm fine. That was…" She trailed off self consciously glanced up to look him in the eye.

His face was absent of the usual smug grin or taunting smirk, he instead looked… raw. His eyes were dark but his mouth had a softer curve to it, the kind of expression that she wouldn't mind pressed to her skin. She swallowed, subconsciously leaning into his touch. "Sirius, I-"

"Well isn't this cozy?"

Hermione and Sirius both wheeled their gaze around sharply to look straight at a very annoyed looking Harry Potter, his eyes pointedly fixed on where Sirius' hips were pressed into Hermione's very naked thighs.

There was silence.

"Since you and Hermione never went out, I'm assuming I can't be hit for this?" Sirius offered eventually.

Hermione groaned, head falling back and arms covering her face. This was going to be a very long night.

And not in a good way.

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><p>There you have it! Two chapters in two days, I'm so proud. Anyways, Tell me what you think, I'm a bit nervous about that smutty scene…<p>

Nixon.


	13. You give Love a bad name

Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I really appreciate them, love knowing that I'm satisfying expectations ;)

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><p>"Nice." He compliments her quietly, not removing his eyes from the now closed door. This is their thing. They look at each other without speaking, or they speak without looking at each other.<p>

Not that they ever say anything when they do talk.

"What?" She's deliberately keeping this conversation vague and shallow. Making him spell out every thought to save the effort of having to read the meaning behind them herself. Interpretation is for friends.

"A swift change of subject, some righteous indignation, a touch of _beautifully_ executed forgiving benevolence-"

"Get to the point Dickens."

"You made him completely forget the position he found you in, and the Scooby gang is reunited once more." He smirked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I didn't even hear you say sorry."

"_Get off your high horse Harry, Luna told me what you guys did." Hermione broke the silence calmly, not breaking eye contact even when Harry's expression widened in shock. She sighed as his face darkened slightly, realising that she wouldn't get through to him on the defensive. She could feel Sirius' presence outside the kitchen door, acutely aware that her performance had an audience she thought she had banished to the study._

_Hermione leaned over and touched his hand gently. "Don't you think you over-reacted a bit Harry?"_

_He shrugged and had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "We weren't trying to hurt you Hermione," Harry spoke slowly as if he was only just thinking about it. "we were just – well, we were scared I s'pose."_

"_Scared?" Hermione's eyebrows jumped to the top of her head. "Of me?"_

"_It's just…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked uncomfortable. "we never see you anymore, now that you work for the ministry doing…" He paused. "…whatever it is you do. And then you turn around and do something as shit scary as wiping people's memories and sending them out of the country."_

_A lump formed in Hermione's throat at the sad look in Harry's eyes. She squeezed his hand tenderly. "I never wanted to hurt, or scare, any of you." She explained earnestly. "I honestly was just trying to protect you." She looked down again as she thought about her past actions. "I guess I did maybe take a bit too much pleasure in it, but you have to believe me, I wasn't trying to ruin any of your lives."_

"I don't have anything to be sorry for."

They never talk. They never say anything. Even now, standing side by side in the cramped hallway inches apart, the words flying between them may as well have been incantations. They attack, they fight, they pose challenges, they threaten. Sometimes they flirt. They never talk.

"You nearly did."

"_Hermione." Harry turned his hand palm up to squeeze her hand in his. She fought down a flinch as the gesture reminded her of Sirius and their conversation a few weeks prior. "I know that what we did, tricking you like that, was incredibly out of line – certainly not what friends should do, and I want you to know that I am so sorry for that. But, all of the people that we've seen that have been… tempted by the dark arts, can you understand why we may have gone a bit over board on the defensive?"_

_Hermione felt a sudden rush of sympathy towards her friend who, despite his faults, had lived through so much in his short life already. "Harry," She smiled warmly. "I love you for your concern, I really do, but, you have to remember, we're all a little rough around the edges. I don't think anyone comes out the other side of the war without some dark in them. But there's light too, and it's our actions that define us."_

_He stared at her. "Someone else said that to me once." _

_She brushed it off. "I had such good intentions Harry, even if my methods were a little… messy. Maybe next time just give me a nudge? Don't go all mind games on me?"_

_He smiled. "Yeah… yeah, of course."_

_She laughed elatedly, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted, like she could go out without looking over her shoulder. Standing up, she came around the table. "Come here you." Enveloping her child-hood friend in a hug, she heard the door slam and a light pair of feet click down the hallway._

_Harry broke away from her, grinning like a twelve year old just presented with their first broom, eyes flicking over her shoulder in recognition. She turned in time to see Luna give her mussed, bedraggled appearance a disdainful onceover, pale eyebrows raised mockingly. _

_Hermione flicked her fingers surreptitiously by her side , making Harry jump as his wand shrieked and emitted red sparks. _

"_Auror Emergency!" Harry announced cheerfully, striding across the room and giving Hermione a loud kiss on the cheek as he exited the room. "Bye 'Mione, Luna.." The front door slammed, echoing through the cold kitchen._

"_I have to applaud you Hermione, there aren't many people who could slip their way out of a situation like that."_

_Hermione squared up to the blonde witch, not liking the silky edges of the tone she was using. _

"_What's your trick?" Luna half smiled icily. "Tiny memory charm? Casual unforgiveable curse? Magical contract?" She dragged the syllables out, clicking the last 'c' on the roof of her mouth._

"_Have I upset you Luna?" Hermione kept her tone steady. "I have a feeling this hostility is nothing to do with Ginny or Pansy. You see-" Luna shifted to the right, and anticipating her move Hermione moved to the left, not allowing the shorter girl to circle her. "-you just intruded on what was obviously a reconciliation. The only natural deduction would be that I have apologised, confessed, and made my peace with Harry. Why hasn't the Cold War ended?"_

"_You're dabbling in the dark arts, Hermione." Luna curled her lip unattractively. "The war's never over for Death Eaters."_

_Rage brushed through her veins at Luna's careless words. An unfamiliar emotion curled a fist around her vocal chords, her words shaking as she spat them across the small area of no mans land between them._

"_I have a constant reminder that I could never be a Death Eater." She raised her forearm in a tightly controlled motion. "I believe you were there when I got this actually."_

_Luna had the grace to look slightly ashamed in the face of the scarred, white letters carved into her skin, but it did nothing for the hatred crawling up the older woman's spine._

"_I would like to think there's more than blood standing between you and evil." Although Luna's response was quiet, it remained venomous._

_Hermione tutted admonishingly. "Lots of things can drive a person to do terrible things Luna." Her tone had become mocking, she had started circling, releasing her tight grasp on emotions. "Pain. Fear. Love."_

"_Love doesn't entice acts of cruelty." Luna snapped, finally realising how precarious her position was._

_Hermione came to a stop in front of her and looked mock-thoughtful for a few seconds. "hmmmm, let's see…" She spoke slowly before holding up an index finger and brightening, a crude mimicry of enlightenment. "I remember a man, nice, kind, believed in things that no one else did. Stood strong in the face of doubt and unkindness. Until one day, someone took something away from him, something that he loved. A good person would of course mourn the loss, but bear it for the sake of the greater good. A good person would have done the right thing."_

_She stepped closer. "Do you know what he did Luna?"_

_Luna dared her to say it, her spine stiff with coiled tension. _

_She leaned closer. "He sold the saviour of the wizarding world to the death eaters in exchange for you."_

"_You bitch-" Luna had only held her wand in the offensive position for two seconds before Hermione's reflexes had flung it across the room. Panting slightly in rage, the two women faced each other, one defenceless and one holding the exact incantation to reduce the other to dust on the tip of her tongue. Anger was still coursing through her, her fingertips twitched as Hermione formed the shape of the first syllable ever so slightly._

_Out of nowhere, Sirius' hand curled around her arm, his eyes meeting hers. He shook his head in warning, silently telling her not to do it, as though he had read her mind. She stared at him, unaware of Luna's palpable relief and confusion, taking calming breathes to the feel of his surprisingly gentle touch on her arm. _

"I wouldn't have hurt her that badly." Half an inch to the left and they would be touching again. Arm to arm, the backs of her fingers touching his, his body heat soothing away her goosebumps. Or perhaps intensifying them. She shook the thought away.

"You would have destroyed her."

She snorted. "Any sane person would have reacted exactly the same way I did."

He turned to look her properly, her elbow brushing his shirt fractionally when she instinctively folded her arms. "Any sane person wouldn't have succeeded."

"Are you suggesting that I'm insane?"

He smiled slightly, not a smirk, but a genuine expression of amusement. "I'm suggesting that I enjoy sullying my hardwood floors too much to allow you to be carted off to Azkaban."

She laughed suddenly and briefly, a soft sound that reflected a degree of surprise, as though she had forgotten she could laugh.

It faded gently into the corners of her eyes as she voiced her next words, her end of the peace treaty that inherent in this strange, short truce.

"The girls are an illusion you know. It's all in your head."

His eyes crinkled, "I know, Skat. Believe it or not, I can tell the difference between real sex, and sex that only happens in my head."

She filed away the unfamiliar word for later. "You knew? And you didn't care?"

He shrugged, running a hand over his head, messing up his hair in an uncharacteristically shy gesture. "Maybe I was just messing with you when I showed you the inside of my head."

"I can tell the difference between a dream and a piece of imagination." She turned slowly to face him full on, uncrossing her arms hesitantly. She had kicked her shoes off several moments before and the height difference, along with her tangled appearance, gave her an unfamiliar sense vulnerability.

He said nothing, simply continued to watch her, engaged in the talking they were suddenly doing.

"You know I wouldn't have fallen for your little _coup d'etat _unless what I saw was real." She smiled humourlessly. "That's why you agreed to be bait, isn't it? You wanted me to look inside your head and tell if you if you're a danger to people."

He focused on her hair instead, running his fingers through the havoc their earlier activities had created, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.

"Why didn't you just ask me?"

He ignored her question, slipping his fingers along her shoulder blade, his thumb gently tracing the purple mark on her neck his arm had left. Barely breathing, she kept very, very still.

"You never told me to stop."

She swallowed against his thumb., abandoning her attempt at a serious conversation "I didn't want you to."

He moved closer, sliding his other hand into her hair, still maintaining the fragile pressure.

"You aren't going to end up like that." The volume of her whisper dropped and became more husky as the space between their faces began to vanish.

"I-" He looked pained when his mouth opened to form the sentence, a desperate and lost expression in his eyes that made her want to break their eye contact, and never look at him again.

Just as her fingertips were microns away from his skin, she felt the a brush of foreign magic ease through the wards, signalling that someone had just apparated into the hallway.

Sirius' hand suddenly tightened in her hair before his touch was gone completely and three feet of cold distance flooded the gap between them.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything…"

"Actually, Yes." Sirius grated out. "We were having a moment."

"Shut up Sirius." Hermione shoved past him to see who had just arrived, the figure mostly obscured by the gloom of the hallway. "Sorry, who is it?"

The person moved forward slowly and Hermione had four seconds to look down the end of a wand before her wards shuddered and filled the hallway with a blinding light.

Then everything went black.


End file.
